


One, Two - Stage Cue

by yoongify



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Character Development, Dear Evan Hansen References, Fluff, Guys and Dolls References, Heathers References, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Lee Jihoon | Woozi & Min Yoongi | Suga Are Related, M/M, Main Relationships: Seungcheol/Jeonghan and Jihoon/Joshua, Musical References, Musicals, Rich Choi Seungcheol | S. Coups, Slow Burn, bc seungcheol is a stuck up prick, bts is VERYYY background, everything else is background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoongify/pseuds/yoongify
Summary: Choi Seungcheol had an entire ten-year life plan waiting to be fulfilled - go to med school, become a world-class neurosurgeon, marry some nice girl that his parents found suitable and have 2 or 3 children, all the while keeping family ties strong by visiting his parents every other week and his grandparents once a month.Of course, that all went to shit when Seungcheol's grandfather died, leaving behind two million dollars of inheritance for Seungcheol if he can fulfil his inheritance task - join some sort of performance-related extracurricular. Because for some reason, Seungcheol's grandfather thinks his life is all work and no play.So Seungcheol joins a musical, much to his despair. Of course, it helps that the director is super hot and happens to be playing the lead - if only Seungcheol hadn't screwed things up by letting it be known that he didn't want to be there during the first meeting.Two million dollars is at stake, and all that lies between it is 5 months worth of rehearsing, one very pretty musical director, and Seungcheol's own feelings.He's got this.(He thinks.)ORin which seungcheol signs up for a musical and gets more than he bargained for.





	1. High Roller, High Stakes

Choi Seungcheol had his whole life planned out ahead of him. Every stepping stone he would ever need to achieve his goal of being a neurosurgeon (and a good one, at that) by his late twenties was written down in a (almost ridiculously) large document — meticulous, strategic, and thorough, aiming to cut off as many extra years from that projection as possible. Graduating from college at twenty-one? Just another part of his master plan. Everything he’d done from high school to now had been in pursuit of one goal — graduating med school and becoming the best damned doctor the world had ever seen.

And as for once that goal was achieved? Marriage and a family were next on that list, and for convenience, an arranged marriage seemed to be what Seungcheol was leaning towards. His dad was an influential businessman — current CEO of Choi Corp, a leading business in technology not only in Seoul, but across the globe — and many stuffy old business owners similar to his parents were looking for arranged marriages, an easy way to make sure their children married into a family of equal or higher status, and ensure that their families had wealth for years to come. He was going to have a loving wife and two children, maybe three, and  _ definitely  _ a dog, and take them to visit his parents every other weekend and his grandparents once a month, so that their ties as a family stayed strong long after his grandparents and parents passed. 

Of course, the latter half of his plan went to shit as soon as the news got out that his grandfather had died.

(Seungcheol heard about it in the newspaper before he heard from his parents —  _ Choi Minhyun, dead of heart attack at age 72  _ — and had called them immediately, which had resulted in a screaming match that was usually the norm of his calls home anyways, but they had arranged a flight back to Daegu and a ride to a meeting with their lawyer in Seoul regardless, so he was satisfied.)

And now here he was, sitting in this small, stuffy room while he waited for his grandfather’s (clearly incompetent) lawyer to read out his will. 

He droned on about his grandfather’s last thoughts about each of his children and grandchildren — which was quite a lot, as his father alone had three sisters and a brother, and each of them had several children of their own — and Seungcheol tuned out his annoying voice until it was merely a buzz, surveying the room. To his left was Hansol, his younger brother, and next to Hansol was his older sister, Eunji. On his other side were his parents, his father’s face stern and unreadable, his mother’s face only marred with the tiniest bit of concern. Seungcheol turned his attention back to the lawyer, just as the will started to get interesting.

“ _ To each of my grandchildren,”  _ the lawyer read, eyes widening just the tiniest bit as he continued on, “ _ I leave a sum of two million dollars—” _

Seungcheol practically leapt out of his chair, protests and half-formed questions rising in his throat. Hansol’s and Eunji’s voices rang out from behind him, but he drowned them out with his own, stammering the tiniest bit as he interrogated the lawyer. “Two-two  _ million? Each?”  _ He glared at the lawyer, who shrank even further into his seat. “You’re sure?”

“I-I’m sure,” the lawyer whispered, only breaking Seungcheol’s gaze once he’d sat down. He continued reading the will, eyes flickering back to Seungcheol’s every few seconds.  _ “Two million dollars, but if — and only if — they satisfy the conditions outlined in their personal letters to my lawyer, Park Junyoung’s satisfaction.” _

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes at the lawyer, but it seemed that all of his fear had been shattered with the news that he was the deciding factor in who got their inheritance or not. The lawyer set the will down on his desk, fumbling with a large manila envelope for a bit before pulling out a stack of crisp white envelopes, each addressed in flawless hangul. 

Seungcheol practically tore his open — he was about to burst with excitement, and the inheritance tasks couldn’t be that hard, right? — and devoured the contents of the letter hungrily, eager enthusiasm and greed turning to disappointment and confusion as the words really sank in. 

“I have to join an  _ extracurricular?” _ he spat out, distaste that was usually reserved for words like  _ Brussel sprouts _ and  _ immunization shots _ and  _ scorpions _ rising up out of his normal cold and controlled facade. “And of all the extracurriculars, one that’s part of the  _ arts _ ? Why?”

“Seungcheol,” his dad warned, voice rising just the tiniest bit, “ _ behave _ .”

The lawyer practically gloated, a smug smile coming to his small, sweaty face. “It says in his will that Choi-ssi wanted you to stop focusing so much on your career and your future and live a bit in the present. He knew you loved to sing as a child, so he suggested joining a singing club or musical theatre production.”

“Hey, at least it’s not worse,” Hansol said, obviously attempting to comfort Seungcheol. (It didn’t work.)

Seungcheol took a deep breath, pushing back the rage that was rising steadily within him. “Look, extracurriculars are a waste of my time. Are you sure there isn’t another way I can get the inheritance?”

“It clearly states in the will,” the lawyer said condescendingly, as if his life was more promising that Seungcheol’s, as if he had more going for him than anyone in this room did, “that completing the stated task is the only way to receive the inheritance. It also says that any money not received as part of an inheritance will be split amongst the others, as part of their inheritance.”

This brought a growl to Seungcheol’s throat because of  _ course  _ he was competitive (he was a pre-med student graduating a year earlier than most, and was raised by a shrewd businessman, of course he was going to be competitive) and of  _ course _ his grandfather would take advantage of this at the  _ worst _ time. “Fine,” he practically snarled, stuffing the letter back into the torn white envelope and rising from the uncomfortable chair. Seungcheol glanced at his mother and father. “I’ll be taking my leave now.” His father nodded, and Seungcheol turned and exited the room. 

Once he’d made his way outside, the first thing he did was text Jihoon. (His best friend for longer than he could remember, drawn to each other only because they were the only two of similar ages at all the stuffy business parties his father dragged him to with the intention of getting him to absorb all of the deals and negotiations taking place. Eight-year-old Seungcheol could have cared less, so he and Jihoon snuck away while the adults were talking and made up games in one of the back rooms of whatever venue they were at that time, always something riveting and exciting because it came from Jihoon’s glorious mind, what else  _ could _ it be?)

_ Are there any musical theatre groups on campus? _ was what he asked, because not only was he too insecure about his singing to do a showcase, but because it was probably already late enough in the year that they would only be able to give him a really small part, probably only in a couple of scenes and part of the chorus. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it with as little effort as possible so he could focus all his energy and time into graduating this year, studying for the MCAT and applying to as many internships as possible so he could build a viable candidacy for when he actually applied to med schools.

Jihoon’s reply was near instantaneous, letting Seungcheol know that he was probably just at home.  _ Yeah, I’m actually friends with one of the guys who run it. Why? _

Seungcheol opted to ignore Jihoon’s question, instead sending back,  _ Could you put in a good word for me and ask if there’s still room for me to join? I need an extracurricular, stat. _

_ Not unless you tell me what’s going on. _

Seungcheol sighed, replying,  _ It’s a long story. _

_ I have time. _

_ It’s kinda boring, actually. _

_ Remember Adore U? _ was Jihoon’s next reply, and Seungcheol honest to god cringed at those words. He remembered it  _ extremely _ well. (Jihoon’s first venture into producing, done back when Seungcheol still had time for things as trivial and time-consuming as recording a song. The lyrics were cheesy, his singing was terrible, and he couldn’t rap to save his life — he still didn’t know how Jihoon managed to rope him into it the first place.)  _ I can easily release it to the whole campus. _

_ fine, I’ll spill. Meet me at smile flower in 15? _

Jihoon replied with a thumbs up, which probably meant he was dashing around the house trying to pull himself together in five minutes so he could meet Seungcheol on time, because he knew very well that if he was even one minute late Seungcheol would leave and he wouldn’t get his story (or his coffee.) Seungcheol smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly as he turned the keys for his car, pulling away smoothly from the curb. 

Exactly fifteen minutes later (he took the scenic route) Seungcheol walked into  _ Smile Flower _ , a small, pastel-themed cafe that made the best damned lattes in the entire city, quickly spotting Jihoon in their usual table in the back corner. His bubblegum pink hair was sticking up in some places, flattened down in others, and his round wire-frame glasses were slightly askew, but he was there, which meant Seungcheol had to now explain that entire debacle to Jihoon  _ and _ buy him coffee.

“You want your usual?” Seungcheol asked as he walked towards the table, dropping his bag next to the vacant chair across from Jihoon. Jihoon gave him a small thumbs up, pulling out his phone and attempting to use the camera as a mirror to try and fix his hair. Seungcheol rolled his eyes before walking to the counter and ordering two coffees, one black and one of the house specials, the  _ Pretty U _ latte. The drinks were ready quicker than Seungcheol expected (but then again, the exceptional service was one of the best things about this cafe) and he brought them back to the table, sliding Jihoon the mug of black coffee before taking a sip of his own latte, a rose-petal-infused creamy thing with strawberry syrup that he couldn’t get enough of. 

“So what’s this about needing to join the musical theatre group?” Jihoon asked, hair significantly less messy. “Why in the world would you join one, and why so late into the year?”

Seungcheol gave him the short version of what had happened, making sure to emphasize the fact that it was  _ two million dollars _ at stake and that the money would be split amongst his cousins if he didn’t complete the task. 

“I hate your cousins,” Jihoon said with a scowl, taking another sip of his coffee. “Remember that time Younghee tried to shove me down the stairs? Or the time Junwoo almost set my piano on fire?”

“Which is exactly why you have to help me out here, Ji,” Seungcheol replied, watching as understanding dawned on Jihoon’s face. “Otherwise they’re all a hundred grand richer, and I walk away with nothing but shame and disappointment.”

Jihoon grumbled about it for a couple seconds, but begrudgingly pulled out his phone, shooting off a quick text to someone whose contact name was just the angel emoji. He drained the rest of his coffee and slammed the mug down on the table, then pushed his chair back with a horrible scraping sound. “My work here is done,” he said, voice devoid of emotion, and walked out the door, the back of his pink hair still inexplicably sticking up. Seungcheol shook his head a bit and sighed (because this was just how Jihoon was) before picking up both of their empty mugs and placing them in their designated bin. He glanced at his watch on the way out —  _ only 2:17, good —  _ because his next class started at 2:45 and he sure as  _ hell _ didn’t want to be late. 


	2. Being Onstage Is Almost As Vulnerable As Being Naked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nerd loser  
> so jeonghan is cute
> 
> satan reincarnate  
> i warned you

The next day Jihoon sent him a series of texts at — according to the timestamps — three in the morning, which was actually pretty early for Jihoon. 

_ the guy i know said to just drop by the auditorium at 5:30 so they could do an assessment for voice and stuff _

_ my friend says that the guy he works with is named jeonghan, and that he’s kinda a force to be reckoned with. i’ve met him a couple of times _

_ don’t make a fool of yourself when you see him, cheol _

_ please. _

And now it was 5:27 and Seungcheol was standing like an idiot outside the auditorium doors, wondering for the nth time if all this hassle was really worth two million dollars. (He’d weighed the pros and cons for as many times as he’d wondered whether it was worth it, and came to the same conclusion this time —  _ it was _ .) With a sigh, Seungcheol pushed open the doors to the auditorium, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lights. A man with eyes that lifted up at the corners —  _ like a cat,  _ Seungcheol thought — ran over to greet him, giving him a friendly smile before introducing him. “I’m Joshua, Jeonghan’s partner, although he keeps on saying I’m just his assistant., and also Jihoon’s friend. Are you Seungcheol?”

“Uh— yeah,” Seungcheol managed to get out, following Joshua blindly as he led him to the stage, climbing up after Joshua gestured for him to do so. Joshua made his way back into the audience, taking a seat in the middle of the auditorium next to another guy. “If you want to know my vocal range, I’m a tenor, but I can sing as high as an alto most days—”

“Thanks,” said the guy sitting next to Joshua, “but we still want to hear your voice.” Seungcheol squinted against the harsh stage lights to get a good look at his face and —  _ holy shit _ . His face was pretty in a delicate way, soft curves that drew Seungcheol in and harsh lines that pulled him down. His eyes were big and round and the most beautiful shade of brown Seungcheol had ever seen and his hair — oh, his  _ hair! _ His hair was long, reaching past his shoulders halfway down his chest, some of it pulled up away from his face in a small half-ponytail. (Looking back, he probably should have taken Jihoon’s advice a bit more seriously.)

“What do you want me to sing?” Seungcheol asked, voice still wavering. The stage lights were way too hot, and he kept on seeing faces in the audience that he wasn’t sure were even there — a pierced ear and dyed hair there, a sharp nose and a mole there — and he just wanted to get this over with so he could be part of the chorus and get that two million dollars. 

“Eh, doesn’t matter,” the guy Seungcheol assumed was Jeonghan said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Whatever you want, I guess.”

Seungcheol blinked in surprise — he’d been fully prepared to sing whatever traditional showtune they threw at him — and started combing through his brain for a song he could sing. (Thankfully, the one frivolity he allowed himself was music, and he had a particular soft spot for  _ Heathers. _ ) The only song that was both a solo and in his vocal range was  _ Freeze Your Brain, _ coincidentally his favourite song in the soundtrack. 

“Do you guys have the sheet music for  _ Freeze Your Brain _ ?” he asked, looking over to the side of the stage where the piano and — wait, wasn’t that Jihoon’s brother? (Seungcheol hadn’t seen him in years, mostly because he had removed himself from Jihoon’s family just as he entered university, choosing music and his boyfriend over the wealth and power his family could give him if he’d only chosen a “better life path.” The pianist looked pretty similar to the Yoongi from Seungcheol’s memory, but was wearing a beanie, glasses and had bright mint-coloured hair a far cry from the tame black Seungcheol had last seen him with, so he couldn’t really be sure. If it really was Yoongi, well — Jihoon would want to hear about this.)

The pianist — he made a mental note to ask Jihoon about that later — nodded, a sly grin working its way across his face. He tossed a glance toward Jeonghan. “What a motherfucking coincidence, huh?”

Jeonghan said nothing, instead motioning for the pianist to hurry up. The shit-eating grin still on his face, possibly-Yoongi pulled out a couple pages of sheet music, experienced fingers flying across the keys with ease as the familiar intro sounded throughout the auditorium. Seungcheol closed his eyes against the bright glare of the stage lights, letting the music wash over him — musicals had always been his guilty pleasure; he filled his playlists with different show tunes, sang them in the shower, hummed the melodies while cooking — and had, of course, imagined being a lead in a musical, any musical. Humans wouldn’t be who they were if they didn’t have the capacity to dream. 

But Seungcheol had always focused more on what would guarantee him a secure and successful future, pushing any thought of starring in a show to the far back corners of his mind where it belonged. And yet here he was, singing as the male lead of  _ Heathers _ , one of his favourite musicals, to audition for a musical he didn’t even want to be in.

He opened his eyes, beginning to sing just as the music hit the first verse, the words flowing out of his mouth as easily as the notes from the piano. The melody was as familiar as the taste of the  _ Pretty U _ latte at the Smile Flower cafe, bringing a soft smile to Seungcheol’s face as he walked from one side of the stage to the other. When the song reached its climax, he made sure he was smack dab in the middle of the stage, eyes trained on Jeonghan in the middle of the auditorium, dark eyes and long hair standing out despite the harsh glare of the stage lights against Seungcheol’s face. The note wasn’t too high for Seungcheol, and he made it as strong as he could, long and powerful with only the slightest bit of a waver in his tone. 

Yoongi played the final few chords, leaving Seungcheol slightly breathless in the middle of the stage. He could feel himself coming down from an almost high, the rush of blood and endorphins that singing in front of so many people on such a big stage was bound to give him. Jeonghan and Joshua clapped politely, some scattered applause coming from elsewhere in the auditorium as well.

“Not bad,” Joshua said, making his way down to the stage, Jeonghan following close behind. “I can see why Jihoon begged me to let you audition.”

“So am I part of the cast?” Seungcheol asked, watching Jeonghan’s expression carefully. The way that Jihoon and Joshua had explained things implied that he was the one that  _ really  _ ran the show; no matter how many compliments Joshua gave him, if Jeonghan was the one to impress, well — he’d better hope that Jeonghan was impressed.

Jeonghan huffed out a small breath. “Well, despite the fact that your stupid outfit and face put me off the minute you walked in the door, you’re a good singer and we’re short a chorus member. You’re in.”

Elation flooded through Seungcheol for a moment, quickly replaced by confusion. He didn’t even want to be here; why was he so happy that he got a part, regardless of how small it was? (Also, his outfit was  _ not _ stupid.)

“First practice for you is tomorrow; it’ll be pretty casual, you still have to meet the rest of the cast,” Jeonghan said, oblivious to the turmoil of Seungcheol’s thoughts. He held out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna put my number into it, so I can text you about rehearsal scheduling and things.” Jeonghan glared at him, eyes full of exasperation, and Seungcheol had never felt smaller. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Seungcheol gave him a small shrug, pressing his unlocked phone into Jeonghan’s open palm. “You can never be too careful.” Jihoon once took his unlocked phone and sent  _ every single embarrassing selfie _ Seungcheol had ever taken to his own phone, and was still using them to blackmail Seungcheol to this very day.

 Jeonghan gave him a small half-smile as he typed in his number, the most Seungcheol had gotten out of him since he’d walked into the auditorium. (It definitely didn’t send a few small butterflies into Seungcheol’s chest. Nope. Definitely not.)

Jeonghan handed him back his phone, the tips of his fingers brushing against Seungcheol’s palm for a split second. “See you tomorrow. 3:30.”

Seungcheol swallowed and nodded, pocketing his phone with still-tingling fingers. “3:30. Got it.”

He turned and promptly exited the auditorium, pulling out his phone to text Jihoon as soon as he was out of the building.

**nerd loser  
** so jeonghan is cute

**satan reincarnate  
** i warned you  
you didn’t make a fool of yourself, right?

**nerd loser  
** of course not!  
he gave me his number tho  
also i think he didn’t like me because he thought i looked rich

**satan reincarnate  
** what were you wearing

**nerd loser  
** nothing fancy!  
just a white button up and dress pants  
my normal clothes

**satan reincarnate  
** you realize that to the normal uni student  
thats fancy  
how do you even survive class  
maybe start dressing down a bit so he doesn’t hate you during rehearsals

**nerd loser  
** no one’s said anything about it before!  
and fine i’ll ‘dress down’  
but only because he’s kinda cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow my momnkey brain forgot i was going on a vacation where i wouldnt have a laptop for the better part of it and also forgot i started publishing this fic?? dumb monkey brain melting whenebr the temperature is higher than 25 degrees. 
> 
> this is way latr that i would have liked it to be but its here nonetheless and i genuinely hope u enjoy!! this fic is my baby and right now is the one i care the most about
> 
> kudos and comments are my lifeblood dont be afraid to feed my poor hungry soul


	3. Seungcheol Might Be A Trust Fund Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol reveals his true nature and pisses off a bunch of people

Seungcheol arrived at the auditorium promptly at 3:30, wearing a decidedly more casual leather jacket with blue jeans, a black winter jacket — sleek but still warm — over it, hair artfully tousled, the tiniest bit of eyeliner across his lids. He walked into the building, blinking a few times to adjust to the dim lighting of the audience next to the bright lights on the stage. 

Joshua caught sight of him first, legs dangling over the side of the stage as he perched on the edge. “Hey, Seungcheol! Come and meet everyone!” 

Seungcheol squinted at the stage as he made his way down the aisle, tossing his jacket on one of the empty chairs in the audience — aside from Joshua and Jeonghan, there were fourteen other people on the stage, all dressed casually, a few with dyed hair and a couple with instruments. “Hey.”

“Okay, hold on, uhh…” Joshua leapt up from the edge of the stage, grabbing a small booklet from the offstage and tossing it to Seungcheol. “So, the musical we’re doing is  _ Heathers _ —”

“No fucking way,” Seungcheol blurted out, looking at the front of the booklet he was thrown. “And you let me audition with ‘Freeze Your Brain?’”

Joshua looked back at Jeonghan, who gave a noncommittal shrug. “I mean, you were good. And we didn’t tell you what you were auditioning for.”

“And we already have a JD,” one of the others cut in, a tanned, slightly muscular boy with hair that dipped down in front of his eyes and a headband that did absolutely nothing to hold that back. “So regardless, the best spot you could get is chorus or understudy.”

“That’s fine by me,” Seungcheol responded, pushing a hand through his hair. “Extenuating circumstances brought me here; I wish nothing more than to just participate. As long as I’m on stage when this production goes live, I won’t ask for anything more.”

The man snorted disdainfully, but turned his attention away from Seungcheol. “Fuckin’ rich kids, thinking they can come in here and make anyone bow to their will,” he muttered, low enough that he probably thought Seungcheol couldn’t hear him. 

“Anywho,” Joshua said, “we’ll probably just cast you as a chorus member for now, maybe even the JD understudy in case Tae gets sick or something during the two weeks of performance.”

Seungcheol nodded, glancing down and flipping through the book quickly. (Not that he needed to — he’d memorized the entire soundtrack by the fifth time he heard it. The only thing he needed to get down was dialogue, and as a chorus member there probably wouldn’t be too much of that.) “And the performances are…?”

“In April,” was Jeonghan’s response. “From the twelfth to the … twenty sixth, I think? And we’ll be performing every day of those two weeks, with two shows Saturdays and Sundays.”

Joshua hopped down from the stage, clapping Seungcheol on the shoulder. “Come meet the cast!” He bounded back up the steps leading to the stage ( _ Sheesh, what a waste of energy, _ Seungcheol thought) and started to walk across, pointing out each person as he made his way from left to right. “This tall guy is Mingyu, first year bio major, and he’s our Ram.” 

Mingyu waved, giving Seungcheol a bright grin. “Nice to meet you!” The guy next to him gave a smaller wave, piercing dark eyes hidden behind round wire-rimmed glasses. 

“Tall, dark, and handsome over there is Wonwoo,” Joshua continued, “And he plays Kurt. He’s also a second year philosophy major.” He gestured at the guy that was sprawled across the stage, large pink lips in a pout and soft blonde hair brushing just over his eyes. “The guy next to him is Jimin, our choreographer and soprano chorus member as well as the Heather Chandler understudy, and beside him is Taehyung, our JD.” Taehyung was the guy with the headband from earlier, the one that seemed a bit… territorial about his role, to say the least.

The next person chimed in before Joshua could give an introduction. “I’m Boo Seungkwan, and I’m Heather Chandler. Also a psychology major, with a minor in acting.” His soft cheeks pressed up with his smile, and he stood to give a theatrical bow — a bit too dramatic for Seungcheol’s liking, but hey, this  _ was _ a musical production. 

“Just out of curiousity,” Seungcheol asked, because Seungkwan looked kinda young and Vernon’s task was, well— “how old are you? And do you by chance know a Choi Vernon?” 

“17, but I’ll be eighteen in a few days!” Seungkwan replied, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice. “And no, I don’t. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Seungcheol said, a small grin working its way across his face. Perfect.

“Anyways,” Joshua said, picking up right where he left off, “this is Seokmin, our Heather Duke; Junhui and Minghao, part of our chorus and the understudies for Kurt and Ram; Jeongguk, our Martha; and Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon, our band.”

“And you two?” Seungcheol asked, mind reeling the tiniest bit from the new faces and names. At least he had confirmation now that the mint-haired pianist actually was Jihoon’s brother.

“I’m Heather McNamara,” Joshua said, “And Jeonghan here is our Veronica.”

Seungcheol nodded, still gripping the script. “Anything else I need to stick around for? I’ve got a bio quiz in a week and, well, if there’s nothing important happening in the rest of this rehearsal I would rather spend my time studying for that.”

Taehyung and Jimin exchanged a glance, surprise and shock and even disgust flitting over a lot of the cast’s faces. Seungcheol knew he wasn’t exactly making the best of impression here, but his future — his  _ career _ — was more important than a silly musical production that would be done by the time he found out whether he got accepted into med school or not. It wasn’t a hard choice for him to make; and it wasn’t hard to act as though he didn’t care, because truly? He could care less about whether the boy in the headband (Taeyong? Taeyang? Whatever) felt territorial about his role as JD or whether they did the right thing casting a freshman as Heather Chandler. The MCAT was in a few weeks and med school applications were due a couple weeks after that, and if his performance began to drop because of this musical? You could bet he’d be out of there faster than Seungkwan could scream “Corn Nuts!”

Joshua began to stammer out something, shock still written across his face, but Jeonghan cut him off, nothing but the driest anger on his angelic features. “If you really don’t want to be here, there’s nothing stopping you from walking out.” 

Seungcheol stuffed a hand in his pocket, shooting a lazy grin up at the stage. “Glad you understand! See you next time.” He turned around, pushing a hand through his hair as he walked back up the aisle towards the auditorium door, picking up his jacket from where it lay in the audience and tossing it over his shoulder. 

He pushed open the building door with his shoulder, squinting into the bright winter sun. Pulling out his phone, he shot a quick text to Jihoon. 

_ You free? if you can come meet me at pretty u. i think i can help vernon with his task. _

Seungcheol pocketed his phone, walking towards his car and pulling his keys out from the inner pocket of his jean jacket. He paused, pulled out his phone again.

_ also, i need to study. _

Not even a second after Seungcheol pressed send, his phone let out a small ‘ _ ding!’,  _ the screen lighting up with the notification.

_ buy me a coffee and i’ll be there by 4 _

Seungcheol sent a thumbs up, pocketing his phone and unlocking the doors of his black BMW 325, the familiar scent of leather and cotton-scented air freshener hitting his nose as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced over at the passenger seat, checking that his bag was there and his books were inside before sliding his key into the ignition and turning it, the soft purr of the engine familiar in his ears. 

It wasn’t long before he pulled into  _ Smile Flower’s _ parking lot, his shiny BMW a far cry from the other, significantly more beat-up and worn cars in the rest of the lot. Grabbing his bag from where it lay in the passenger seat, he shut the door of his car, triple-checking that it was locked before heading into the cafe and ordering the usual for both he and Jihoon. 

Jihoon walked in just as Seungcheol had gotten himself set up in the back corner where they usually sat, the  _ Hamilton _ soundtrack blaring softly into his airpods, textbook and notes and his strangely large collection of stationary spread out across the table. He yawned, plopping down into the seat across from Seungcheol and rubbing a hand across bleary eyes. “Coffee.”

“It’s not done yet,” Seungcheol said, eyes never lifting from his page as he transferred the information from textbook to notes again and again, drawing arrows and highlighting to make sure the information really stuck with him. “Patience is a thing. Learn it.”

“Why,” Jihoon grumbled, pulling out his own laptop from a worn black backpack and his set of Bluetooth headphones. “I get nothing but more tired every second where there is no coffee in my system.”

“Large black coffee and a medium  _ Pretty U _ latte to stay!” the barista called out, a broad-shouldered man wearing a pink sweater underneath the standard black aprons. Seungcheol quirked up an eyebrow in Jihoon’s direction, watching as the younger sighed before walking over to grab their drinks. As soon as Jihoon sat back down, he drained half of his coffee in one go, wincing slightly as the hot liquid burned the back of his throat. 

“You have got to stop doing that,” Seungcheol said, looking on in mild amusement. “One day you’re not going to have any more taste buds, and don’t come crying to me when that happens and you can’t enjoy mochi ice cream anymore.” Jihoon made a face at Seungcheol, then gulped down the rest of his coffee in two large (and painful, if his face was any indicator) sips. 

He slammed the mug down on the table, traces of coffee still stuck to his upper lip. “I want another one.”

“Buy it yourself,” Seungcheol said, focus back on his notes. “I already bought you two coffees this week alone, and  _ Smile Flower  _ ain’t cheap.” (Never mind the fact that he had enough money that it wouldn’t be an issue to buy another coffee for Jihoon, but hey, someone’s gotta teach that kid responsibility.) Jihoon scowled at him, but Seungcheol refused to respond, prompting Jihoon to leave his seat again and go to the counter to order another one. 

Jihoon returned shortly, slamming another large mug of coffee onto the table (and nearly spilling half of it on both his laptop and Seungcheol’s notes.) “So why’d you really call me here? We both know that you wouldn’t make me come all the way to  _ Smile Flower _ if you didn’t need to tell me something.”

Seungcheol gave him a small grin, capping his pen and setting it aside. “I’ve mentioned that Hansol’s task is to find a boyfriend — a real boyfriend, not someone he pays to fake date for one event — and come out to our parents, right?” 

Jihoon choked on his coffee, coughing into his hand as he set the mug down. He looked up with watering eyes, voice hoarse. “No? What the fuck?’

“Oh. Thought I did.” Jihoon threw him a sharp glare, but Seungcheol ignored it, continuing his thought unphased. “Anyways, there’s this cute kid in the musical theatre group I had to join that’s  _ also _ a freshman here and  _ also _ pretty damn young and  _ also _ probably Hansol’s type, and I wanted to set them up on a date.” He gave Jihoon a small smile, watching the other’s expressions carefully. “Good idea?”

Jihoon let out a small sigh. “I mean, the worst that can happen is they don’t hit it off. Why not.”

“Great.” Seungcheol took a small sip of his own latte, waiting until he’d swallowed it to say, “Also, I think I saw Yoongi at the musical thing, and I think he’s dating someone. Maybe two someones.” 

“What?” Jihoon pushed a hand through his hair, small tufts of pink sticking up from his head, brows furrowing in worry and surprise. “He— You—  _ what?” _

The tiniest hint of a smile crossed Seungcheol’s face at Jihoon’s reaction.“I’ll let you process that while I figure out a way to get this kid’s number.” 

The door to  _ Smile Flower _ opened with a familiar  _ ding _ , Seungcheol’s gaze shifting from his notes to follow the new movement and noise. He did a double take as a familiar face walked through the door, grabbing Jihoon’s sweater. “Jihoon,” he hissed, “that’s the kid I was talking about, the one I want to set up with Vernon.”

Jihoon nodded, vacant gaze drifting over to the boy Seungcheol was pointing out. “ … Okay, yeah.” Seungcheol looked back at him, letting out a small breath. 

“Okay, keep processing. I’ll get the kid’s number.” He stood up from the chair, the harsh screech of the metal legs against the floor drowned out by the constant buzz of the other customers and the sweet, dulcet tones of Phillipa Soo in his ears. Walking over to where Seungkwan was now standing in line, he pulled out his phone and pretended to check the time while observing him, pulling one airpod out of his ear and slipping it into his pocket with his phone. 

“Hey— Seungkwan, right?” Seungcheol said, a smile plastered on his face. “Funny seeing you here.”

Seungkwan turned to face him, shock flitting over his features. “Oh, uh— Seungcheol, right?” Seungcheol nodded, sticking a hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah, rehearsal just ended, and I usually come grab coffee here after, so…” 

“Oh, I’ve never seen you here before?”

Seungkwan shrugged, fingers tugging at the hem of his sweater. “I don’t really stay for long.”

“Why don’t you come sit with me and my friend?” Seungcheol gestured back at the table where Jihoon was now hunched over his laptop, headphones covering his ears. “We can get to know each other more, talk about the production.”

Something flashed across Seungkwan’s eyes, so quick that Seungcheol wondered if it was really there. “We could have done that at the rehearsal.” The corner of his lips lifted slightly, but the look in his eyes was anything but happy. “You know, the one that you _ left early _ ?”

Shock hit Seungcheol like a truck on the freeway, causing him to reel back from the words Seungkwan had thrown at him. “I— I mean, I  _ am _ a chorus member, and I have a quiz, and—”

Steely distrust blossomed across Seungkwan’s delicate features. “Jeonghan and Joshua made an  _ exception _ for you because your friend Jihoon told them you were a good actor, a quick learner, and that you could be  _ trusted _ to give it your all despite the weird circumstances around it and the fact that you’re joining this production two months later than all of us, without even having to audition properly or go through  _ any  _ of the stress that I had to.” Fire blazed in his dark eyes, and Seungcheol almost regretted approaching him. (Almost.) “You think I enjoy being the only freshman lead? Having to constantly prove myself? You think I enjoy watching you waltz in and be accepted despite your clear lack of dedication to this production?” Seungkwan let loose a fearsome glare, something Seungcheol never would have expected from this delicate freshman clad in pink and pastel blue, anger rippling off him likes waves of heat off black pavement in the summer. “You’re a spoiled, stuck up trust fund baby that’s had everything handed to him on a silver platter, and I’m going to be the one to either open your goddamn eyes or make your blind life miserable.” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the store, everyone in the vicinity watching him slam the door to  _ Smile Flower _ and then turning to Seungcheol with the biggest mix of disgust and shock Seungcheol had ever seen on the faces of such a large group of people. 

A slow clap sounded from the back corner of the shop. Face burning, Seungcheol turned to see none other than Lee Jihoon clapping with the biggest, widest, _shit-eating_ _grin_ Seungcheol had ever seen on him. “Oh, shut up,” Seungcheol managed to get out, storming towards the back corner before grabbing all of his stuff and leaving. He stormed out the door, ignoring all of the pitying and disgusted gazes in his direction. Throwing everything into the backseat of his car, Seungcheol turned on the car and punched the gas, blasting the A/C to make himself feel something other than the incessant heat in his face, catching sight of his ruddy cheeks in the rearview mirror as he tried his best to remain a safe driver despite the anger and shame boiling in his blood. Seungcheol drove until he didn’t know where he was going anymore, until all the streets and houses blended into a monotone blur and the only thing Seungcheol let himself feel was the comfortable purr of the engine behind him. 

All he knew was that he had to get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you know anything about the plot of heathers you can probably figure out where i'm going with this
> 
> kudos and comments are my lifeblood!! come yell at me on twt @pixiwoozis if you hated it (or liked it, i'm fine with either)


	4. The Cards We're Dealt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol exposes his love of musicals and has a nice long chat with jeonghan about everything and nothing.

Without realizing it, Seungcheol had driven himself back to the university’s auditorium. He sighed, debated whether it was worth it to turn around and drive home, decided it wasn’t, and parked the car, stepping out into the quickly fading sunlight and locking his car before walking into the dim auditorium. The house lights were still on, illuminating the aisles and just touching the stage, the front half of the looming floor lit by the warm lights. Seungcheol ambled down the aisle, something inside him unwinding at the sight of the familiar rows of chairs, the way the left side of the stage was slightly higher than the other. 

Whenever he got too emotional to handle himself, he always came back to the theatre. Something about the stage, the songs he would sing and the imaginary audiences he would perform for always brought him back to earth when his emotions started to pull him up into a frantic orbit. Seungcheol hoisted himself up onto the stage, wandering along the large, black surface before a song started to bubble out of him, all the creativity he suppressed in favour of science spilling out. 

He started out quiet, humming the melody and tapping his fingers against his legs to the beat, ambling along in a mindless manner. Eyes shut, he came to a stop and began to sing, albeit quietly, the familiar lyrics flowing through him like water through a calm river. “I’ve Never Been in Love Before,” a personal favourite of his from the musical  _ Guys and Dolls _ . Although the musical itself was old and kind of sexist by today’s standards, the hopeless romantic in Seungcheol loved the idea of, well — love conquering all, even misunderstandings and gambling addictions and split devotions. (Seungcheol liked to think of himself as similar to Sky Masterson — he had the charisma and the roguish good looks, the only differences being that he was not from New York and didn’t have a gambling addiction. Both were differences Seungcheol could live with.)

It wasn’t long before he was belting out the song from centre stage, nothing but adrenaline and raw emotion flooding through him as the song poured out. At the risk of sounding like a music nerd, Seungcheol almost ( _ almost _ ) wished he could sing the song with someone, as the harmonies at the end were nothing short of sexy. 

He hit the last note, letting it fade away slowly as he ran out of breath, eyes opening slowly and adjusting quickly to the dim theatre. Slow applause rang out from the back of the auditorium, alarm shooting through Seungcheol as he realized he wasn’t alone. “Not bad for someone who says he could care less about musical theatre,” a voice said, and as the figure moved down the aisles Seungcheol realized it was Jeonghan. Great.

Cheeks burning, Seungcheol jumped off the stage and stormed towards the aisle Jeonghan was ambling down. “That wasn’t meant to be seen,” he spit out, barely contained rage trembling in his voice. 

“I never said you were bad.” Jeonghan put a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder, effectively stopping his mad dash to escape the auditorium. “You were pretty good, actually.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Seungcheol replied, words short and clipped. He tore his shoulder out of Jeonghan’s grasp, fully prepared to run out the doors of the theatre and not look back until he was safe in his own apartment. Jeonghan wasn’t supposed to see that. No one was supposed to see that, it was supposed to be  _ private _ and was too personal for Seungcheol’s taste and now his voice was short and strained and his heart was filling with unwanted emotion— “It’s not like I’m any good at performing. Nor do I care to pursue it any further than as an extracurricular.”

Before he could run, Jeonghan’s hand grabbed his. Seungcheol turned back, about to give Jeonghan a piece of his mind — but stopped when he saw Jeonghan’s face, an unfamiliar expression colouring his features. A silence hung in the air, heavy and full, and Seungcheol half expected some psychoanalysis based on his choice of song, but when Jeonghan opened his mouth all that escaped was, “ _ Guys and Dolls _ , huh?”

Seungcheol was taken aback. “I, uh— yeah?”

“Kinda a classic, kinda niche.”

“I watched a production by some independent theatre a few years ago,” Seungcheol commented, nerves settling. “I’m not saying it sparked my obsession with musicals, but, well…”

Jeonghan let out a laugh, the high and sweet sound echoing in the dim auditorium. “Really? What other musicals have you seen?”

Seungcheol began to list them — first ones he’s actually watched, second those he’s only seen bootlegs of, third those he’s only listened to the soundtrack — and was surprised to see Jeonghan still fully engaged by the end of the (admittedly lengthy) list. 

“And you say you hate musical theatre.” Jeonghan reached out as though to ruffle Seungcheol’s hair, or grab his shoulder, but he stopped awkwardly in midair and let his arm fall to his side. “Surprisingly extensive knowledge.”

“I never said I hate musical theatre,” Seungcheol began, immediately defensive, the easy promise of banter distracting him from thinking too hard about Jeonghan’s hand and the direction it was headed. “Just that I don’t have time for it.”

“Why?”

Jeonghan was looking at him with big eyes, open and inquisitive and molten like chocolate and gold. “What?”

“Why don’t you have time for musical theatre?” he asked again, prompting Seungcheol to flail around for words.

“Well, uhh, med school applications are soon, and I gotta make sure I get into a good one, and—”

“Bullshit.” Jeonghan crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes and studying Seungcheol in a way that made him feel not unlike a specimen under a microscope. “You clearly love musical theatre, and you’re not a bad singer — in fact you’re actually pretty good — so why haven’t you … I don’t know, even shown the barest hint of an interest in it?”

Seungcheol tried to find something to say, some witty response, but all his words dried up on his tongue. Jeonghan didn’t let up his intense gaze, making Seungcheol feel small in a way he hadn’t felt since he was seven, and accidentally broke his father’s prized bottle of champagne in a game with Jihoon. 

He let out a breath, knowing somewhere in his cluttered mind that he wasn’t getting out of this without opening up at least a little bit to this charming mystery of a man. “I guess… In the grand scheme of things, musical theatre won’t contribute to my planned life goals. I never saw any purpose in it, so I kept away from it.” The words were true, and Seungcheol knew that he’d at least done  _ something _ right because his life was (mostly) on track, but it didn’t make it any less awful to hear them aloud. It stung even more when he remembered he was standing in front of someone that was pursuing theatre as his career.

Jeonghan’s gaze softened. “So you sacrificed it, rather than pursue it.” Seungcheol nodded, all too aware of how dry his mouth was. 

There was silence then, a moment that hung too heavy in the air, but Seungcheol couldn’t bring himself to cut it. Jeonghan studied him, and Seungcheol could feel his palms begin to sweat, the way his hair began to stick to the back of his neck. Finally, the moment broke, and Jeonghan pulled on his jacket and grabbed Seungcheol’s hand. 

“Let’s talk.”

+

Jeonghan slid into the front seat of Seungcheol’s car as though he’d done it a million times before, directing Seungcheol to a small, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it coffee shop a few kilometres south of campus. They didn’t talk much on the drive there, just an occasional ‘left here,’ or ‘stay right,’ from Jeonghan, and Seungcheol wordlessly obliging. 

The coffee shop —  _ Heart Shaker Coffee —  _ seemed right up Jeonghan’s alley (and admittedly, right up Seungcheol’s as well.) It was small, but as soon as Seungcheol walked in his nostrils were assaulted with the scents of coffee, fruits, and something kind of flowery. (Whatever it was, Seungcheol wanted to try it.) 

The girl at the cash register had short hair, bangs clipped back from her face with a sparkly hair pin, and a smile that caused some of the tension in Seungcheol’s chest to ease. “Hi, welcome to Heart Shaker Coffee! How can I help you?”

“Hey Jeongyeon,” Jeonghan said, giving her an easy grin. “I’ll get the usual, he’ll get whatever he wants—” he jerked a thumb behind him towards Seungcheol “ — and he’ll be paying.” Seungcheol almost protested, then remembered he was kind of a jerk to Jeonghan and was probably also the richer of the two. The least he could do was pay. 

“I’ll have the… Bloom Bloom latte,” Seungcheol told her, taking out his credit card to pay before joining Jeonghan at a small table in the back. The drinks were ready faster than Seungcheol expected, so it wasn’t until there was steam wafting in front of their faces that Jeonghan spoke. 

“How much do you like musical theatre?”

It was a simple question, and yet threw so many emotions into Seungcheol’s chest. Regret. Joy. A sense of sorrow, almost. And— 

Shame. 

The most present in this explosive cocktail of emotions, burning bright and hot in Seungcheol’s chest and telling him to burrow up in his jacket, to hide his face from the world and never come back.

He stared into his drink, a sort of frothy green-tea-and-rose thing, if only to avoid meeting Jeonghan’s eyes. “If I’m being honest, a lot.”

“Then why—” Jeonghan started, but Seungcheol chose that moment to shift his gaze from the mug in his hands to Jeonghan’s face, and Jeonghan shut his mouth when he saw all the raw emotion in Seungcheol’s eyes.

He paused. Was he really about to do this? Spill his heart out to a near stranger, because he caught Seungcheol singing,  _ performing _ , and thought that it was the right time to psychoanalyze him? He barely knew Jeonghan, and during his first official practice he pissed him off, left early, then ended up storming back to monopolize the stage and give into the one impulse he swore to himself he’d never succumb to.

Ah, hell, it wasn’t like he was really risking anything by telling Jeonghan.

“Look, I don’t come from the kind of family that would just … let me pursue musical theatre.” Seungcheol’s gaze dropped back down to his drink, because he knew that if he got even a hint of disappointment or pity or  _ something _ from Jeonghan he’d be out of here. “I might be rich, but that came from decades of hard work from my grandfather, and decades of work from my father after him. I can’t just … go through life living off of what they worked hard to earn. They expect me to do the same, and to surpass them while doing so—” and he was getting heated, he knew, but around two decades worth of suppressed feelings were just bubbling up inside him and if he didn’t get them out, and didn’t do so  _ soon, _ he knew he’d explode. “So I can’t afford to just — pursue musical theatre, even if I wanted to. I have to be the best, and the only way I can do that is by forcing myself to be better every step of the way, even if that means sacrificing my passions.” 

He looked up, and Jeonghan’s face was covered in a thousand different emotions, and Seungcheol didn’t know what to say. A tense silence settled over them, and Seungcheol took a sip of his drink in a futile attempt to ignore it (although the drink was really good, he’d have to remember this cafe and show it to Jihoon as another study place). 

After what felt like a millenia, Jeonghan spoke. “If you had the choice— if you had the  _ freedom _ , what would your major be?”

Seungcheol swallowed another sip of his drink. “Musical theatre,” was his answer, delivered more confidently than anything he’d said the entire conversation. As happy as he was with learning medicine and science and knowing he could use his intellect to help people, deep in his heart he knew his true passion was and would always be performing. 

There was another silence, but this one was less full, less tense and sharp. “Why can’t you just go against your dad?” Jeonghan asked, which to him might have seemed like a good enough solution, but Seungcheol already knew this was coming. 

“Look,” he said, “you have living proof of why you shouldn’t do that in the ‘orchestra’ —” and yes, he put air quotes around it, because a drummer, an electric guitarist, a pianist, and a few pre-recorded brass tracks don’t count as an orchestra “ — and chances are he’s never told you because it hurt him too much to be completely cut off from his siblings and all the friends he made.”

If Jeonghan felt any sort of shock or disbelief, he did a great job at hiding it, and Seungcheol had to remind himself he was talking to someone who was literally majoring in convincing people that you’re feeling emotions you aren’t actually feeling. And hiding the emotions you actually are feeling. 

“It’s Yoongi, if you’re curious,” he said, quieter, because if he was going to expose Yoongi’s Tragic Backstory he’d at least do it with a bit of decency, “and his brother is my best friend. He was supposed to take over his father’s company when he graduated with a business degree—”

“But he’s a music major,” Jeonghan interrupted, confusion flashing over his features quickly before spiriting away. 

“I’ll get there. Yoongi fell in love with music,” Seungcheol continued, and it pleased him a little to know that Jeonghan was holding onto his every word when before he wouldn’t have even given Seungcheol the time of day, “and two guys, and his family decided that they wouldn’t support Yoongi if he chased either one of those things.”

“Clearly he did, though.” Jeonghan stirred his drink, taking a small sip before making a face and adding two sugars. “And?”

“They disowned him, plain and simple.” There was an awful, roiling feeling in Seungcheol’s gut, and he couldn’t even bring himself to take another sip of the previously-appetizing drink in his hands. “He’s ineligible for any inheritance, current holdings, or reputation that being a part of the Lee family gives him.”

“Yoongi’s last name is Min.”

Seungcheol blinks once, twice, because that was definitely not the name he was going by last time, but then he remembered— “That was his mother’s maiden name.”

Jeonghan took that, sat with it. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Anyways, the point is, I’ve already got enough going for me that I don’t want to risk getting disowned for something like … the  _ arts _ ,” he said, and he noticed how Jeonghan winced at the distaste coating his tongue when the word ‘arts’ escaped his mouth. Seungcheol felt bad, he really did, but the arts…  _ weren’t _ as important as the sciences. That was something his parents had drilled into him as soon as he could distinguish the difference between the two. And of course some arts had their places — a good piece of classic literature could always make for good conversation, the opera was a classy place to spend one’s time when one was in need of an acceptable frivolity, and knowing about your historical artists would always get you points in the culture department — but musical theatre was not one of them, and his parents made it extremely clear the first (and last) time they caught him sneaking out to a musical. (West Side Story, sometime during high school. He’d managed to drag Jihoon along with him, only to be grounded for a week by his parents and completely waste the front row tickets he’d snagged.) (Since then he’d learned to be much more covert when indulging.) “I’m literally taking the MCAT this year. If I want to go through med school I’d rather have my family behind me than against me.”

Jeonghan went silent again, stirring his drink around before taking a sip (this time a satisfied one, the two sugars really seemed to have made a difference.) “Do you love medicine?” he asked, and his voice was low and raw and sent sparks shooting through Seungcheol’s stomach. (Combined with the twisting from earlier, Seungcheol was definitely not going to be able to finish this drink, no matter how good it was.) 

“I don’t… love it,” was Seungcheol’s reply, and he forced himself to take a sip of the near-forgotten drink in his hands because it really was quite good, despite the way his stomach had twisted itself into knots, “but I won’t hate doing it for a living.”

“That’s what you’re settling for?” Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, chin tipping up just enough that he was peering down at Seungcheol from along the bridge of his nose. “‘Won’t hate doing it?’ You may as well be signing a delivery slip for a midlife crisis and some ripe depression.”

“Didn’t know depression could be ripe,” Seungcheol said, and Jeonghan let out a small laugh, the sound sending shocks of joy along Seungcheol’s arms. It was a nice laugh, and that was why Seungcheol was happy. Wasn’t because he liked being the one that made Jeonghan laugh, of course not. 

Jeonghan was quiet for a bit. “Theatre’s risky business,” was what came out of his mouth when he finally spoke, “and the only thing that sets me apart from you is when I saw what cards I was dealt I chose to raise, and you chose to fold.”

Seungcheol started to protest, but Jeonghan gave him this  _ look _ , something knowing and teasing and glaring all at once, and he sat back and thought about it for a bit, and— Fuck. Jeonghan was right. 

Jeonghan drained his drink, setting the mug back on the table before saying, “And it’s such a shame, too. I like to think I’d have been good friends with the Seungcheol that decided to play the game.” His eyes caught Seungcheol’s, just for a moment, but Seungcheol could have sworn it was long enough for him to see an entire alternate future in those dark eyes. He stood up and left, not looking back despite the way Seungcheol’s gaze was boring into his back. 

Seungcheol let out a small groan, dropping his head into his hands. He was well and truly fucked, wasn’t he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? projecting my own feelings about loving the arts and feeling like i've done something wrong because of that onto seungcheol?? It's More Likely Than You'd Think.
> 
> [this is the song seungcheol sings!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVaTPJR4ldM) my musical theatre class actually did guys and dolls this year, and i was the lovely sarah brown (aka the girl in this track). had real fun pretending to be attracted to a guy when im a huge lesbian.
> 
> ((should i continue to link any referenced songs? i realize not everyone is both a kpop stan and a musical theatre nerd so let me know if i should do so!))
> 
> kudos and comments feed the tiny goblin spinning straw into ideas for me!! give him food he's a hungree leetol boye 
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	5. Coffee Shop Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which you learn some of jihoon's Tragic Backstory and seungcheol and jihoon talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rich set a fire - jihoon, reference to the character rich goranski from be more chill  
> meather - joshua, reference to the fact that he's heather macnamara. ( m heather? meather?? no??)

**meather  
** subjects a and b spotted on a date at local cafe last night

**rich set a fire  
** in dumbass please josh  
its too early for this shit

**meather  
** ji it’s 10 am???

**rich set a fire  
** like i said too early

**meather  
** hannie told me him and seungcheol went out to heart shaker last night  
after he found cheol singing guys and dolls in the audi

**rich set a fire  
** guys and dolls?   
cheol only sings that when he’s being emo  
ten bucks says it was because of sassy freshman giving him hell yesterday in smile flower

**meather  
** seungkwan did What Now  
anywho i think this is a big step in our plan

**rich set a fire  
** right the plan  
Make Our Best Friends Fuck

**meather  
** jihoon!! thats not what its called  
its Make Our Best Friends Fall In Love (and then fuck)  
duh

**rich set a fire  
** ah yes how could i ever forget the l-word

**meather  
** also wait han told me something important  
yoongi is your brother???

**rich set a fire  
** fuck  
who told him  
wait no i know its cheol  
fuck   
i only found out hes there yesterday 

**meather  
** ji baby :<<<  
if id known i wouldve told u

**rich set a fire  
** shit josh  
i havent talked to him in five years  
i miss him so fucking much

**meather  
** i know baby i kno  
do u want me to tell him  
or  
give him your number or something

**rich set a fire  
** if he wanted to talk to me  
hed have foudn a way already

**meather  
** maybe he didnt know  
maybe he thought you didnt want to talk to him

**rich set a fire  
** ..  
can i call you?

**meather  
** _ Audio call: Jihoon  
_ _ Duration: 46:19 _

+

Jihoon was late.

This would be worrying if it wasn’t a Saturday, and if Jihoon didn’t consistently show up anywhere from fifteen minutes to nearly an hour late for their weekly study sessions. So Seungcheol sat back, took a sip from his latte, let the sweet,  _ sweet _ vibrato of Ben Platt thrum through his ears, and flipped through another notes package for the upcoming biology quiz. 

Despite what his father would say about the harms of music and noise whilst studying, Seungcheol found it relaxing to be surrounded by white noise and familiar melodies, the constant bustle of others going about their lives in the relative peace of the coffee shop soothing frayed nerves and settling him into a semi-relaxed state he found perfect for studying. It also helped that he’d been a regular for three years now, and every worker there knew to look out for the rich kid that tipped way too much and always got a soft, flowery latte. (They offered him a discount at one point, because Seungcheol spent so much time and money there, but Seungcheol refused it. He was rich, firstly, and would only get richer once he completed his residency and fellowship, and he also really enjoyed the lattes here. Tipping what he could and paying full price on drinks was the least he could do to help sustain the local coffee shop that allowed him to pursue a career and be successful in said pursuing.)

Jihoon showed up three minutes before noon, which Seungcheol only knew because he’d finished a chapter and was now scrolling through social media while finishing his drink. He was dressed in all black, which would be concerning if black wasn’t a good 90% of Jihoon’s wardrobe, but his eyes were swollen. Not overly so, not in a way that made Seungcheol think about calling an ambulance, but in the way thats says I-cried-but-I’m-trying-to-hide-it, in the way that says please-don’t-look-at-my-swollen-eyes. And Seungcheol had  _ some _ decency so he didn’t bring it up, at least not in a way that would make an outsider suspicious. (Seungcheol witnessed Jihoon’s first breakup, first real fight with his parents, watched as Jihoon beat himself up again and again for things out of his control. Of course he knew Jihoon had been crying, but he wasn’t enough of a dick to let the rest of the cafe know too.)

“Rough night?” was what he asked instead, tossing the ball into Jihoon’s court and letting him decide whether to throw it back or out into the spectator stands. 

Jihoon let out a heavy breath, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You could say that. More like rough morning.”

“Care to share?”

Jihoon said nothing, and Seungcheol was all too happy to let it go and buy Jihoon a coffee, but then he spoke, his voice a dead monotone, hands still covering his eyes. “Joshua told me he knows about Yoongi.”

Seungcheol didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept quiet. Yoongi had been an important part of Jihoon’s life — the brother he looked up to and loved, his best friend aside from Seungcheol — and had always been there to support Jihoon, whether that was by covering for him when he snuck out to watch  _ Little Shop of Horrors _ or  _ Rent _ or hell, even  _ Cats _ with Seungcheol or by encouraging his love for music production even when his parents didn’t. Yoongi was the first person Jihoon had come out to when he’d realized he probably wasn’t straight, and Jihoon was the first person Yoongi told about his plans to major in music, despite what their parents wanted. Seungcheol knew all too well what Yoongi meant to Jihoon, and knowing that his brother had been just out of his reach this whole time? That even though they were still in the same city,  _ shit,  _ in the same  _ university _ , Yoongi hadn’t reached out to him? 

It broke something in him, to think that Yoongi simply didn’t  _ care _ , and Seungcheol had watched it happen. Watched as Jihoon started to stay up later and later, always brushing off Seungcheol’s concerned comments with a ‘stayed up working on a song’ or ‘had some homework I forgot about’ even as the times where he would sleep in or show up late became more and more frequent. Watched the circles under his eyes get larger and larger, watched colour slowly bleed out of his wardrobe (aside from his hair, which he dyed first a shocking red, then a neon green Seungcheol likened to a highlighter, and now the pink it was today), watched and watched and couldn’t do anything to help because he didn’t even know how or where Jihoon was hurting. He tried, he really did, pounding his fists against the walls Jihoon built and even trying his best to sneak past them, but they loomed too high and were built too thick for Seungcheol to truly get through. 

“I miss him,” Jihoon said, eyes trained firmly on the table, voice breaking on the word ‘miss,’ and Seungcheol would have reached across the table to hug him if he didn’t know that Jihoon would hiss like a cat at the mere thought of physical contact. “I… I want to talk to him again, want to hear his voice again,” and he looked up, eyes swimming in raw, unfiltered emotion that hit Seungcheol like a truck as Jihoon’s gaze met his, “I miss him so  _ fucking _ much, Cheol, and I don’t even know if he wants to see me.”

Seungcheol let out a breath, a pit settling uncomfortably in his stomach. “Jeonghan told me he changed his last name,” was what he said, because he wasn’t sure if he could promise Jihoon anything. “Changed it to Min.” 

Jihoon looked like he got punched, eyes full of something like torment and breath leaving him in one large  _ woosh _ , nothing but shock and grief on his face. “Mom…” he breathed out, voice splintered and shattered, and Seungcheol could see every emotion rippling across his face before they all disappeared, and Jihoon looked tired and about ten years older. He dragged a hand across his face, mumbling ‘can you get me a coffee’ before slumping over on the table.

By the time Jihoon’s coffee arrived, the topic of conversation had switched to the production. Namely, Seungkwan, and the (in Jihoon’s words) absolutely epic way he took Seungcheol down a peg yesterday. 

“But was he wrong, though?” Jihoon asked, taking a way too big gulp of his steaming coffee before giving a slight wince and setting the mug back on the table. 

“I— I’m not a  _ trust fund baby _ ,” Seungcheol hissed, brows furrowing at the mere thought. He worked hard to get where he was, spending hours studying instead of socializing and barely giving a thought to anything that wouldn’t contribute to his goals of success. “And sure, maybe I’m not as  _ dedicated _ as the fucking freshman lead, but I have good reason not to be!”

“What reasons, Cheol?” Jihoon’s gaze locked with his as he took another sip of coffee. “We both know you love musical theatre. And singing. And performing. And  _ Heathers _ . So what reasons?”

“Fuck, you know,” Seungcheol shot back, frustration setting his blood to a gentle simmer. “I’ve got the MCAT this year, I can’t afford to fuck that up,  _ especially _ for something like a musical.”

“But you have to at least be a  _ little _ dedicated to this to stay in the cast and perform it and deal with long night rehearsals,” Jihoon said, and Seungcheol hated how matter-of-fact his voice was, how Jihoon knew exactly how right he was. “Even if you’re only doing it for the sweet, sweet two million coming your way after, you have to at least show dedication to  _ that  _ in order to get the money.”

Seungcheol let out a small groan, taking a sip from his now-cold latte. “Alright, fine, Seungkwan was right. I won’t leave any more rehearsals early.”

“And you won’t be a prick to Jeonghan.”

Seungcheol shot Jihoon a Look™, because Jeonghan was attractive but he was also an insufferable dickhead sometimes, mostly when Seungcheol was focused on the upcoming chem lab instead of the show, but in his defense— 

Well. In his defense, nothing. It was the same situation as with Seungkwan, just accounting for the fact that Jeonghan’s stupidly cute and his long hair was really doing it for Seungcheol (for some unknown, godforsaken reason.) “Alright, fine, I won’t be a prick to Jeonghan,” he said, evoking a pleased smirk from Jihoon, “even if he’s provoking me constantly by tempting me into choosing the arts.”

“He’s what now?”

“We had this whole talk yesterday,” Seungcheol started, and his mind was flooded with memories of the way Jeonghan had to add two sugars to his coffee before he could drink it, the intensity of Jeonghan’s gaze when he talked about playing the game with the cards you were dealt, the way he felt more open and light and easy with Jeonghan than he’d ever felt with anyone (aside from Jihoon). “He told me how great it was to do something you actually love. Which I can understand, but I also don’t want to get disowned.”

Jihoon was silent for a moment. 

“After you get the two mil.”

“What?”

His eyes got all intense, an expression that Seungcheol immediately associated with bad ideas making its way to Jihoon’s face. “After you get the inheritance money, you should switch your major. The film options you’ve been taking have to count for some of that, and being in the production will help your case with the dean. Plus, you’re smart, so I bet you could fastrack a bachelor’s in theatre the same way you fastracked your biochem degree.” As much as Seungcheol didn’t want to hear what Jihoon was offering, it did sound…  _ plausible _ , at the very least. (And appealing.  _ Oh _ so appealing.) “Or, even better, finish your biochem bachelor’s and then go back for the theatre degree, keeping your options open even as you figure out how to do what you love for a living.”

“And get disowned as soon as my father sees what I’m doing,” Seungcheol retorted, despite the way his heart sang at the thought of studying musicals and theatre for three or four years. Even if his relationship with his parents was rocky (and would only continue to get worse in the wake of his grandfather’s passing), he didn’t want to risk being cut off from Eunji and Hansol like Yoongi was with his siblings. 

Jihoon opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by the sound of the bells hanging over the front door. “Hey, isn’t that Seungkwan?”

Seungcheol turned, and — what were the fucking odds. Seungkwan had just joined the line in front of the cash register, earbuds in, a few binders in his hands. “What a small world.”

“I mean,” Jihoon commented, “we did see him here when he delivered that epic smackdown, so maybe he comes here often.”

Something in Seungcheol’s chest was burning, smoke filling his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe, heat traveling up his neck to his face and ears, breath getting shorter and quicker the longer he kept his gaze trained on Seungkwan. He choked on it, taking a sip of his drink to ease the heat in his chest and still feeling like he couldn’t breathe, like he was forgetting something and would be ridiculed for it. 

(He knew what it was, but refused to say it. Nothing in him associated this endless heat with anything good. And so he tried to ignore it, but it was stronger, as it always was.)

_ Shame _ .

Seungcheol knew it too well. The burning in his ears that traveled into his cheeks and down into his chest, spreading to fists that would clench tight, nails biting against soft skin, and down to knees locking and stopping him from moving, trapping him in place with whatever lit the fire. The disappointment heavy in his father’s voice, that one look from his mother than would bring a thick lump of tears to his throat and push his gaze down with the weight of a thousand words.

There was a pause, where they both just watched Seungkwan advance in the line and place an order, and then Seungcheol spoke, the burning feeling in his chest not letting him do anything else. “I need to apologize to him.”

Jihoon let out a short laugh, bitter and wry. “No shit, Sherlock.” 

He was a jerk to Seungkwan. That much he already knew, had already figured out in the conversation with Jeonghan. (Even if he didn’t think he did anything wrong, he knew he had. And honestly? Seungcheol kinda felt like shit about it. Even if this was just following his grandfather’s wishes and not something he was pursuing out of genuine interest and time to be filled, he didn’t want to come across as an insufferable prick. And he  _ wanted _ to be respectful, he just… didn’t always know how. It was a new situation for him, of course he was gonna mess stuff up, but the very least he could do was apologize after.) Plus, if he could make good with Seungkwan before the next rehearsal, it might look better to Jeonghan and Joshua if he could show he was actually making an effort to get to know and bond with the rest of the cast.

Seungkwan walked away from the counter, a steaming mug haphazardly held around binders and notebooks. He took a seat on the other side of the cafe, somehow not noticing Seungcheol and Jihoon. 

“I’m gonna talk to him.”

Jihoon let out a dry laugh, peering past Seungcheol’s shoulder to get a good look at Seungkwan. “If you manage to walk away without coffee stains on your jacket I’ll be  _ so _ impressed.”

Seungcheol cuffed him lightly on the head as he walked past, nerves alighting in his stomach as he approached Seungkwan. He had two objectives here: gain Seungkwan’s trust, and establish that he was going to work hard during the performance. (They went hand in hand, but Seungcheol still found it important to separate them.) 

Seungkwan noticed him before he’d managed to sit down, eyes narrowing with distrust. “What are  _ you _ doing here.”

“I can’t just come to say hi?” Seungcheol tried, but his voice wavered and he already knew that Seungkwan wasn’t going to take this simple, amicable excuse as a valid reason. He took the seat across from Seungkwan, letting the shame pulse through him once more until his gaze dropped down to the table, then looked up at Seungkwan with what he hoped were innocent eyes. 

Seungcheol took a deep breath. Whatever happened now, whether he managed to convince Seungkwan that he was a decent, committed person or not would rest so heavily on his next few words.

“I wanted to apologize.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhanger? in my jeongcheol fic?? It's More Likely Than You Think
> 
> the ending Kinda Wack but i did need to end it somewhere or this chapter would have been twice as long and twice as late but i should be able to get the next one out soon since i've got a starting place already
> 
> its reference very vaguely but the song seungcheol is listening to is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfnMvo87fQU) from dear evan hansen!! 
> 
> comments and kudos give me life don't be afraid to share your thoughts!! thank u for reading~


	6. Let's Make This Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol apologizes, plays matchmaker, and almost gets hot and heavy with a certain veronica sawyer.

“I wanted to apologize,” Seungcheol said, pushing as much raw emotion into his voice as he could. 

This got Seungkwan’s attention. He pulled an earbud out, setting his pen down on the table. “You’ve got two minutes.”

Seungcheol took a deep breath, mind racing as thoughts swirled around in his head, a list half-formed and coming to the forefront of his mind. “I had a talk with Jeonghan, and— and I realized I was kinda a jerk about a lot of things.” Stammering implied he was nervous, which made things seem more genuine. Seungkwan trusted Jeonghan, so bringing that up would help his case. Admitting that he was wrong? The cherry on top of the fucking cake. 

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said, and that threw Seungcheol off.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you were a jerk.” Seungkwan’s voice was brittle and dry, and if Seungcheol wasn’t already planning on how to deal with him his fight or flight response would have been  _ activated _ . 

“In my defense,” Seungcheol started, because if he looked as though he was actively trying to change old habits in front of Seungkwan it would work even better, “when I walked into the production my only goal was to get in, and I wasn’t planning on having to commit to anything more serious than rehearsals once a week! But—” he continued, making sure Seungkwan couldn’t interrupt before he was done saying his piece, “but when I talked with Jeonghan I realized how much actually goes into the performance, and that it isn’t fair of me to expect that I can get off easy because I’m just part of the ensemble.”

Despite the fact that Seungkwan was (according to Jeonghan) an extremely talented actor, his face when unguarded was an open book. Seungcheol watched every emotion flash across his face — anger at first, then something akin to understanding, and a begrudging acceptance — and he knew that he’d hit the mark exactly. Seungkwan took a sip of his drink, and Seungcheol knew this was supposed to make him sweat, to make him worry whether what he’d said was enough and whether his words had done their job, but what  _ Seungkwan _ didn’t know was that Seungcheol knew every trick in the book. He’d  _ written _ the book, for fuck’s sake. 

“I guess I can accept that apology,” Seungkwan said, placing his glass back on the table. “You’ll have to prove your dedication in rehearsals for me to  _ really _ believe you mean it, though.”

Seungcheol allowed a small grin to spread across his face, hoping the tiny amount of relief that shot through his bloodstream made its way into his eyes.  “That’s a lot better than I was hoping for.” He paused, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, a sheepish grin replacing the joyful one that was previously painted there. “Could I get your number, actually? I wasn’t paying super close attention in the last rehearsal and I want to make sure I didn’t miss any important dates.” 

“Yeah, sure!” Seungkwan punched his number in, and when Seungcheol looked back at his screen the contact name Seungkwan had given himself was ‘heather chandler.’ He was dedicated, all right. “You know next rehearsal is Monday afternoon, right?”

Seungcheol nodded, pocketing his phone. “Also, Jeonghan wouldn’t mind if I brought my brother along to rehearsal, right? He wants to, and I quote, ‘see what show business is  _ really _ about.’” He let out a small laugh, nervous hand tapping against the table. “I’ll make sure to clear it with Jeonghan himself later, but just wanted to get your support too in case he refuses.”

Seungkwan shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“Great!” Seungcheol stood up from the table, giving Seungkwan a friendly parting grin. “I’ll see you Monday, then?”

“See you Monday.”

Seungcheol walked back to the corner table, where Jihoon was busy pretending he hadn’t been staring at them the whole time. He had to physically restrain himself from doing anything dumb and showing his relief, but by the time he slid into his seat opposite Jihoon he couldn’t restrain the full-blown grin that made its way across his face. 

“I got his number,” he said, unable to contain the notes of joy in his voice, “ _ and _ I mostly got an okay to have Hansol come watch the next rehearsal, which means Seungkwan is not only okay with me, but will soon have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t know he’s gay,” Jihoon commented, but even he couldn’t hide the small smile curving his lips.

“Gaydar,” Seungcheol replied dismissively. “Plus, he’s drinking an iced coffee and he’s wearing Converse, I don’t know how much gayer you think he can get.”

Jihoon conceded, taking a sip of his coffee. He set the cup down, tone hesitant when he spoke. “Don’t you think it’s a little… manipulative of you to do this for Hansol?”

“What, you’d rather I leave it to chance? Hansol’s too busy to find anyone of his own accord, and too awkward to take the efforts to actually  _ date _ someone once he finds a guy he likes.” Jihoon didn’t say anything, face a mask of stony indifference. Seungcheol let out a sigh, waiting until Jihoon’s gaze was back on him before he said anything. “Trust me, Hoon. They wouldn’t have met normally, and I can tell they’ll mesh well.” He gave Jihoon a small, hesitant smile. “I just want Hansol to be with someone that can make him happy.”

Jihoon huffed out a breath, pushing a hand through his hair. “Alright. Fine.” Seungcheol let the smile on his face spread into a full-blown grin, his infectious smile causing the corners of Jihoon’s lips to turn up as well. 

Seungcheol decided to take a risk. He may have just stepped on a land mine, but at least he did it with good intentions. “Do you want to come to Monday’s rehearsal?”

Jihoon froze, swallowing hard before even daring to move his eyes up to Seungcheol’s face. “Will he want me there?” 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that ‘he’ was in reference to Yoongi. Seungcheol took a breath. “Even if he’s… less than happy to see you,” Seungcheol said, staring Jihoon down when he opened his mouth to interrupt with defiant fire in his eyes, “which I  _ doubt _ he’ll be, you still have Joshua. He’s your friend, right? You can just say you’re there for him.”

The mug of coffee in front of Jihoon remained untouched. “ … You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“It can’t be a bad one,” Seungcheol replied, and Jihoon let out a small sigh before agreeing. 

“Can’t wait for Monday,” Jihoon said, and his voice was only half sarcastic.

+

“You broke your leg.”

Taehyung shrugged, left leg up on the stage and wrapped in an eye-burning neon green cast. “Yeah, oops.”

Jeonghan turned to him with fire in his eyes. “What do you mean,  _ oops? _ Jimin said you’re not going to be out of that cast until at  _ least _ March! We don’t have the time to wait until your leg heals for practice.”

“How’d he even break his leg?” Seungcheol asked, to no one in particular considering most of the people in the auditorium bar Hansol, Jihoon, Joshua, and Seungkwan were ignoring him. Taehyung heard, and maybe it was just because he wanted to brag about how, but at least Seungcheol got an answer to his question. 

“I got high with Hobi and Jimin on the weekend and somehow fell out a tree,” he said, an amicable grin on his face despite the anger Jeonghan was directing towards him. “Guess I didn’t expect to break my leg when I climbed the tree.”

Jeonghan pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath with tightly shut eyes. “Taehyung, do you know what this means?” Taehyung’s easy grin dropped when the tense, taut notes in Jeonghan’s voice rang out through the auditorium. “We can’t wait for your leg to heal. We need to go to the understudy.”

Seungcheol hadn’t been paying much attention, but his focus snapped back to Jeonghan at the word ‘understudy.’ More specifically, when everyone turned to look at him. “What?”

A small groan escaped Jeonghan’s mouth, and Joshua gave Seungcheol a nervous laugh before saying, “So, remember how at the last rehearsal we mentioned you’d probably be good as the JD understudy?”

“Wh—  _ wait _ .” Seungcheol’s stomach dropped into his toes, the sudden realization of what had really happened sending his mind reeling. “You don’t mean—”

“You’re our new JD,” Jeonghan said, and Seungcheol couldn’t tell if his voice was regretful or excited or even just tired. A laugh sounded out from a few rows behind them, and Seungcheol turned to see Jihoon absolutely losing it next to a very confused Hansol. 

Jihoon managed to compose himself long enough to say, “I can’t fucking  _ believe _ —” before being overtaken by another fit of laughter. Seungcheol shot him a scathing glare, then turned his attention back to Jeonghan.

“Do you think you can have the script memorized in two week’s time?” Jeonghan asked, and it really hit Seungcheol that he was going to be the lead in a play he hadn’t even planned on joining in the first place. 

“I— Uh, well, the thing is,” Seungcheol said, mind still scattered a thousand different ways, “I’ve listened to the soundtrack enough that I have every single song memorized and have watched it live at least three times? And I also have a near-photographic memory?” Someone let out a noise of shock from somewhere on the stage — probably Mingyu, that kid seemed way too easily amused from what Seungcheol had seen in only today’s practice — and Joshua and Jeonghan looked incredibly relieved.

“That saves us so much work,” Jeonghan said, flipping through the script and marking different things. “The only things you’ll really have to get used to is the staging, I guess.”

“And working with Jeonghan,” Joshua remarked idly, oblivious to the way Jeonghan and Seungcheol looked up, met each others gazes, and then quickly glanced away, minds full of memories of things that felt too intimate for how new their friendship was and yet, at the same time, not nearly close enough. “Guess we should do a dry read through today, so Seungcheol can figure out where and when he needs to be in the scenes, and then go from there?” Joshua looked up, and if he noticed the blush spreading across Seungcheol’s cheeks he wisely chose to keep quiet. “Is everyone okay to stay a couple hours later tonight?”

Sounds of agreement echoed throughout the auditorium, and Seungcheol almost raised his voice in protest — there was a reading assignment in chem, and he had a lab coming up — but remembered what he’d promised, and held his tongue. He’d still be able to sleep early, he would just have to be a little more efficient than usual. 

“Then let’s get to work.”

+

“Damn, we have a lot of numbers together,” Jeonghan remarked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “ _ Meant to be Yours, Our Love is God, Seventeen… _ ”

The rest of the cast was busy trying to figure out a way for Taehyung to both not smack anybody with his crutches, but still make it around the stage fast enough to make all his cues. “Wheelchair?” Seungcheol heard Jimin suggest, only to get whacked by Taehyung and his crutches. They had mostly been leaving Jeonghan and Seungcheol along, because they ‘need to get used to being around each other!’ as Joshua so helpfully put it.

“ _ Dead Girl Walking, _ ” Seungcheol said, regretting it near immediately when a hot red blush spread across Jeonghan’s cheeks. Not wanting it to get awkward, Seungcheol scrambled for something else to say. “Uh, you know, JD is one of my dream roles. Or like, fantasy roles? Wasn’t really planning on doing theatre before this year, so, guess it can’t really be a dream role, but,” and damn, he was getting really rambly, wrap it up Seungcheol, “uh, yeah.”

Smooth.

“Bet you didn’t plan on it being with a guy in your fantasies,” Jeonghan commented, and despite the casual way he said it, the remark was loaded with a million different landmines.  _ Tread carefully, Seungcheol _ . 

“I never really leaned one way or the other,” was Seungcheol’s response, and he hoped with all his heart that it was delivered as blasé as it sounded in his head. (He also hoped Jeonghan caught his drift — as subtle as it was, this was his way of letting Jeonghan know he was bi, a guy, and ready to try.) “I’m definitely not opposed to it, though.”

Jeonghan gave him a small grin, cheeks still painted in faint pink. “I’m glad.”

Their gazes met, and Seungcheol was lost in rivers of chocolate, glimmers of gold passing him by as he drifted away. A lock of hair had fallen in front of Jeonghan’s face again, and Seungcheol reached out, tucking it behind Jeonghan’s ear before realizing what he’d done and snatching his hand away as though he’d burned it. 

A cough sounded out from behind them, and suddenly they were both very immersed in their scripts, despite the fact that both of them probably knew both the song and the staging inside out by this point. 

“You guys ready to run the number?” Joshua said, and the two of them nodded, Seungcheol not trusting his own vocal cords just yet. They took their places on the stage, and the music sounded up with a nod to Yoongi. Jeonghan began to sing, and Seungcheol was awestruck — his angelic features matched his voice, high and even yet carrying a sort of weight with it, and powerful enough to sound out loud and clear throughout the whole auditorium. 

If there was one thing Seungcheol prided himself on, it was his attention to detail. His timing for his very first line, simple dialogue, was exactly on, and he prayed that his reactions to Jeonghan were genuine enough.

“ _ Sorry, but I really had to wake you,”  _ Jeonghan crooned, eyes full of so much fire and desperation that Seungcheol had to remind himself this was all fake. They were just acting. “ _ See, I decided I must ride you till I break you.” _

Seungcheol would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little turned on by that.

It was surprisingly easy to play the part of a shocked-but-horny teenage boy, and it definitely helped that Jeonghan-as-Veronica took control for most of the song. All Seungcheol really had to do was react, and let Jeonghan do whatever the hell he wanted for those three and a half minutes. 

They were more than halfway through the song, and Seungcheol knew exactly what was coming next. Both of them were on their knees, Seungcheol’s hands around Jeonghan’s waist, one of Jeonghan’s hands tangled in Seungcheol’s hair and the other around the back of his neck. “ _ Let’s make this beautiful,” _ Jeonghan belted, and just before Seungcheol could say his line (and kick off a whole mess of stage kissing), Joshua yelled “Cut!” from stage right. 

Seungcheol tried not to make his sigh of relief obvious, but it was just … too  _ soon _ for him to even think of getting hot and heavy with Jeonghan, even if it was staged.  _ Especially _ because it was staged.

“That looks good!” Joshua said, giving them both an easy grin. “Run it through a couple more times, and for the last part feel free to just sing through instead of acting it all out. Let’s just get used to the dynamic between you two, yeah?”

Seungcheol risked glancing over at Jeonghan, and warm brown eyes returned his gaze, something like sparks flying between them. Jeonghan gave him a small grin, and Seungcheol returned it before turning back to Joshua. 

“Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is in full swing now and it has been so hard to find the time to write this, as much as i love it!! this fic is one you'll never have to worry about me discontinuing in the near future, though, because i've got most if not all of this one planned out and just have to write everything.
> 
> [here is the song jeonghan sings at the end!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EyDyxGZn_Y) it's very full of - i don't want to say sexual tension bc this song is technically them Fucking, but like, Sexual Tension. and yes, i did plan for seungcheol to become jd since the beginning of the fic
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated!! if u comment i will guaranteed respond, i love and cherish all of them so much~


	7. What Is This Feeling?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol decides to play matchmaker, and we get to see some of jihoon's tragic backstory™

Jeongguk was up on stage, singing through “Kindergarten Boyfriend” fairly well, albeit a little nervously. (Seungcheol would never have said it aloud, but he was impressed by both the musical talent on the band that transposed all the music to make it fit an all-male cast, and by the cast for being able to adapt so easily.) Jeonghan watched with intense eyes, absorbing every second of Jeongguk’s performance in order to scrutinize it and ultimately, make it better. The rest of the cast was scattered throughout the auditorium — Mingyu and Wonwoo were somewhere in the back, and Seungcheol tried his best to ignore the obnoxious sounds of lips on lips coming from their general area, but they were just so  _ loud _ . Hansol gazed almost forlornly at where Seungkwan was talking with Seokmin and Soonyoung, and Junhui and Minghao were off to the side conversing in what Seungcheol recognized as Mandarin. 

Near the front of the stage — just behind where Jeonghan was sitting, but far enough away from the rest of the cast — Jihoon sat comfortably next to Joshua, looking more at ease than Seungcheol had ever seen him with anyone other than himself and Yoongi. Joshua said something, too quiet for anyone but Jihoon to hear, and Jihoon laughed with more fondness than Seungcheol thought it was possible for Jihoon to have in him. 

It was hard to make Jihoon smile, but Joshua managed to do it with an ease Seungcheol still didn’t posess.

Seungcheol knew that it had been far too long since Jihoon had last dated — hell, since Jihoon had admitted to liking someone. But Seungcheol also knew Jihoon, and knew that Joshua probably occupied more of his heart than he’d ever care to say. 

Joshua made Jihoon happy, and Seungcheol wanted that to as last for as long as they would let it. 

He snuck up towards the front of the auditorium, slipping into the seat next to Jeonghan just as Jeongguk finished the final bars of the song, a light flourish of keys coming from the piano. “Sounding really good, Jeongguk!” Jeonghan said, flashing a bright smile towards the stage. “Work on controlling your breath a bit for the last belting section, and then once you’ve got the singing down a little better start to focus on acting — this song is to the audience as much as it is to yourself, so make sure you can really communicate to whoever’s watching the pain and desperation that Martha is feeling here.” Jeongguk nodded, eyes bright and wide and eager, before walking towards the piano to practice. With a sigh, Jeonghan collapsed into his chair and pushed his hair behind his ear, unscrewing the lid of his water bottle and taking a long sip.

Seungcheol glanced behind him, making sure that Joshua and Jihoon were sufficiently occupied with each other before whispering to Jeonghan, “I want to set up Joshua and Jihoon.”

A spray of water just missed Seungcheol as it escaped Jeonghan’s mouth, Jeonghan coughing as he tried to swallow whatever remained in his mouth. “You want to  _ what _ ?” he said while wiping his mouth, loud enough that Joshua stopped talking with Jihoon long enough to ask if everything was alright up front, his concerns waved away by a few reassurances from Jeonghan. 

“I want them to ask each other out,” Seungcheol reiterated, watching as Jeonghan’s expression changed from shocked to dubious. He pursed his lips, taking another sip from his water bottle. Seungcheol continued, “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the way Jihoon looks at him. I haven’t seen Jihoon smile this much since, well…” A sigh escaped his lips, words coated in nostalgia in regret. “Since before Yoongi left.”

Understanding dawned in Jeonghan’s warm brown eyes, a gentle grin gracing his delicate features. “You think Jihoon likes Joshua.”

Seungcheol nodded. “And I haven’t known Josh long enough to get a read on whether he feels the same, but I love Jihoon enough to take that risk.” A warm, happy laugh sounded out from behind the two, and when they turned back the first thing they saw was Jihoon grinning, peals of laughter escaping him as he clung to Joshua. An involuntary smile spread across Seungcheol’s face, and he felt more sure of his plan the more he saw. “Jihoon deserves to have something good in his life.”

Jeonghan studied Seungcheol for a moment longer, then set his jaw with firm resolve. “Alright, I’m convinced. What do we have to do to make it happen?”

Seungcheol’s grin widened, and shock washed over him briefly before he was overtaken with elation. “Wait, really?”

“Really.” Jeonghan turned back to look at the duo, eyes softening. “Joshua may not have had it as rough as Jihoon, but he’s never really gotten the love he deserves either. And if Jihoon is his chance at that — who am I to get in the way of a happy ending?”

“We could all go out for coffee or something this week,” Seungcheol said. “That’s not weird because Josh and Jihoon are close, and you’re close with Joshua, and I’m close with Jihoon, so it makes sense we’d all go hang out together.”

“We’d have to get Joshua or Jihoon to initiate it, though,” Jeonghan added, brows furrowing in concentration. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense for me or you to suggest it considering we don’t know each other that well. I don’t know about you, but I also don’t know Jihoon well enough for that to  _ not _ be weird.”

“Jeonghan!” Joshua yelled from behind them, interrupting their scheming. “Can we run  _ Meant to Be Yours  _ again? I want to see if I can separate Kurt and Ram over there.” He jerked a thumb towards the back of the auditorium, where the long silhouettes of Mingyu and Wonwoo were writhing in the shadows. “Plus, that song’s just fun to watch.” 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan exchanged a glance, then Jeonghan responded with a quick ‘sure.’ Joshua began yelling at Mingyu and Wonwoo until they decided to separate and head onto the stage, lips swollen and pink from kissing. The stage was bright, illuminated by spotlights far above their head, and Seungcheol walked towards that brilliance, only to be stopped by a hand gripping his wrist.

He turned, and all he could see were warm brown eyes full of stars. White light from the stage hit Jeonghan’s face, illuminating the life in his eyes and the way his hair brushed gently against his jaw. “Text me later?” Jeonghan said, more of a question than a statement, and it took Seungcheol longer than he’d have liked to remember what Jeonghan was referring to.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol said, half in a daze. Jeonghan released his wrist and bounded past him onto the stage, and Seungcheol was left with nothing but blinding light ahead of him and the faint memory of a warm hand against his skin. 

He took a deep breath, and stepped into the light. 

+

“Jihoon?”

The familiar yet foreign voice sounded out in the small auditorium, sending a jolt of pain into Jihoon’s heart. He turned, already knowing what he was going to see and yet still not understanding all the differences between the man he knew and the one standing before him. 

He stood tall, taller than Jihoon remembered him as, but maybe that was just the lack of burdens on his back. His hair was a mint green, bright and full of life in comparison to the black that painted Jihoon’s memories, and his eyes were almost sparkling. 

“Yoongi,” Jihoon breathed out, almost afraid that if he reached out and touched him, Yoongi would disappear like fog in sunlight. He steeled himself against the ache in his heart, showing nothing but iron and stone in the face of Yoongi’s probing gaze. “What a coincidence.” 

A deep breath filled Yoongi’s lungs, and he pushed a hand through his hair. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “A lot has happened since I last saw you.”

_ Since you left _ , Jihoon thought. “Like what?” was what he said.

“Started my masters in music,” Yoongi said, and his voice contained none of the wavering hesitation that it had held five years ago, when he first dared utter the idea of a music degree in front of their parents. “I’m really enjoying classes, Hoonie —” and the nickname shouldn’t have been a spear through Jihoon’s heart but it was, the familiar sounds hitting so differently in Yoongi’s familiar voice “ — and I don’t regret anything that I did back then.”

“Anything?” The only thing Jihoon could even think of saying, the word so small in his mouth that he felt again like he was four, hiding under the table as his mom screamed, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh all too loud in his ears. “Not even—” 

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. 

“Yoongi, we’re going to be late for dinner!” someone yelled, tall and lanky and with a shock of bright purple hair. A slightly smaller man stood beside him, his hair a deep red, and a smile lit up his face. Yoongi turned to them, and Jihoon caught a fondness on his face that he could only describe as love. 

“Give me a second,” he called back, before turning to Jihoon. 

Jihoon couldn’t think of anything to say, but Yoongi caught his question somehow. (He always did, ever since they were little. A lot had changed over the past few years, and yet things were still exactly the same.) “They’re my boyfriends,” Yoongi said, eyes softening. “Namjoon, he’s the taller one, and Hoseok — I love them will all my heart, Hoon, I really do.”

Jihoon willed himself to smile. “I’m really happy for you.”

“How’s Chan? Father make him pick a life path yet?”

The smile pasted on Jihoon’s face became a bit more genuine. “Chan’s doing okay. Father wants him to go into medicine, but Chan wants to go into law — he nearly wagered a bet based on whether he could win a debate tournament or not, but luckily enough I was able to talk him out of it.”

Yoongi let out a short laugh, the burst of happiness ending in a wistful sigh. “I bet he’s grown a lot since I last saw him. I miss the kid.” 

“Yoongi!” Namjoon called again, and this time Yoongi actually made moves to leave, picking his jacket up from where he’d set it down and readjusting his bag on his shoulder. He reached out, almost hesitantly, before clapping his hand down on Jihoon’s shoulder. 

The warmth of Yoongi’s palm spread from his shoulder right into the center of his chest, a heat blooming there that Jihoon had almost forgotten how to feel. Yoongi was  _ here _ , and he was  _ real, _ and Jihoon missed him so much— 

But something stopped him from pulling Yoongi into a hug. A wound opened in his chest that he had tried his hardest to close, and all those carefully built walls around his heart were crumbling down. 

“I’d like to— I don’t know, talk with you. Just us,” Yoongi said, but his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder was burning like fire and everything he said was muffled and quiet. 

“I—” Jihoon pushed Yoongi’s arm away, registering the hurt on Yoongi’s face but knowing why he couldn’t just let things be. “Yoongi, do you know how much it hurt when you left with no warning?” Shock shot across Yoongi’s features, before settling into a hesitant sadness. Jihoon tried his best to keep the rising tears at bay, but his throat was already sore from holding back the lump of sadness in his throat. “You were hurting, sure, but as soon as you left all of those  _ expectations _ and  _ duties _ fell right on me.”

Yoongi looked stricken, pain coating his voice as he said, “Jihoon, I didn’t know—”

Something broke in Jihoon, a pained laugh escaping him as hot tears made their way down his cheeks. “Of course you didn’t know! Of fucking  _ course _ you weren’t aware,” he said, his voice coated in venom, “because you never thought to even  _ try _ and contact me again.”

Jihoon caught sight of Namjoon and Hoseok, both of them slowly approaching. “Go enjoy your life,” Jihoon said, voice bitter and words sour as they left his mouth. “Go enjoy your happiness. I hope you just remember that by finding your own path, you took away mine.”

Hurt bloomed across Yoongi’s features, and he reached out a hand again, but Jihoon pushed it away. “Jihoon, I—” 

“Go,” Jihoon said, voice choked and thick with tears. “Just go.”

Yoongi turned around and walked away.

Jihoon slumped down into a nearby seat, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes and cursing the few tears that managed to escape his iron defenses. He didn’t— he never thought he’d feel like this. He loved Yoongi, he really did, but his life was a living hell now, and it would have been so much easier to bear if Yoongi had still been there.

His chest ached, and there were still tears threatening to fall, so Jihoon did what he knew best — he ignored it all, pushing it down to some hidden part of him and numbing himself to everything around him. The rehearsal was over, but most of the cast was still in the auditorium.

A quick glance at the stage told Jihoon that Joshua was still there, eyes sparkling under the stage lights as he messed around with Seungkwan and Seokmin,  _ Candy Store _ being sung in the most ridiculous way Jihoon had ever heard it. His hair was curled — probably Jeonghan’s doing, but combined with the collared shirt and cream-coloured sweater he was wearing, and the round wire-frame glasses he was partial to, it made something in Jihoon’s chest feel warm and goopy. 

(Oh, no. That was a feeling, wasn’t it.)

Seungcheol came up beside Jihoon, following his gaze to the stage. “Joshua, huh?”

“What about him?”

Mischief sparkled in Seungcheol’s eyes. “Oh, you know, just the way you have heart eyes whenever you look in his direction.”

“I don’t have a crush on Joshua!” Jihoon exclaimed, taking care to keep his voice hushed enough that only Seungcheol could hear. “I swear to god, Cheol, I’m going to whoop your ass—”

“I never said anything about you liking him,” Seungcheol said, a smug smirk on his face. Jihoon grumbled his dissent, crossing his arms as the blush on his cheeks grew and the smirk on Seungcheol’s stupid face widened. 

Jihoon might have protested the idea of having feelings, and just the concept of feelings in its entirety, but it was always easier for him to deal with happy feelings than sad ones.

“He’s a little cute,” Jihoon admitted begrudgingly. “And maybe he makes me  _ feel things _ or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I want to date him.”

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, for long enough that Jihoon turned to look at him. His eyes met Jihoon’s, and they were what Jihoon dubbed Seungcheol’s ‘you dumbass’ stare — a little disproving, a lot amused, and a whole bunch of exasperation. “Jihoon,” he said, voice a complete deadpan as he grabbed Jihoon’s shoulders. “Say that again, and listen to how  _ dumb _ you sound.”

Jihoon pushed his arms away, knowing full well that Seungcheol was right but not wanting to admit it. “The day I go on a date with Joshua will be the day I finally delete  _ Adore U _ for good.” He was never going to delete  _ Adore U _ , it was so good as blackmail material — if Seungcheol thought for a second that Jihoon going on a date with Joshua was any more likely than Jihoon deleting this beautifully shitty pop song, he had another thing coming.

“Is that a bet I hear?” Seungcheol responded, tone goading. Jihoon groaned, realizing his blunder. 

“No, it’s a fucking promise that I’m  _ not _ going to ask Joshua out.” Jihoon crossed his arms, hoping the fury in his eyes could burn a hole right through Seungcheol. “It’s not a fucking  _ bet. _ ”

“A bet? You want to bet on whether or not Joshua will ask you out?” Seungcheol continued, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Alright, well, sounds good to me.”

“You—” Jihoon growled, frustration lacing his tone. “Fine, but we’re working out the details later. I’m not doing any of this ambiguity shit — if we’re making a wager we’re doing it right.”

Seungcheol grinned, sticking out a hand for Jihoon to shake. “Then it’s a deal?”

With the image of Joshua’s smile in his peripheral vision, the joy on his face doing nothing to help the butterflies in his stomach, Jihoon grabbed Seungcheol’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my muse has been kind to me these past few weeks, and i've got not only this chapter fully written and edited but the entire next chapter, as well as the rest of the fic planned out and chapter 9 underway. thank u tiny goblin for spinning all this straw into gold
> 
> that does mean i can (hopefully) speed up updates and you guys won't be waiting a month or longer for new updates!! this is a win for everyone hehehe
> 
> [here is the song jungkook is singing at the beginning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9MwGckEZd4) , and [here is the one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQOoTX1Nxx8) seungkwan, josh, and seokmin are singing at the end!! although, they are making fun of it, so maybe imagine it more as [this version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n56qse0T-zw) if you'd like
> 
> comments and kudos feed my tiny goblin muse and help them spin all that straw into gold!! thank u for reading~


	8. Interlude: Group Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol organizes a triple date and receives an unexpected call from an even more unexpected caller.

The humming of the car’s engine was a familiar sound in Seungcheol’s ears, the quickly darkening sky accenting the multicoloured lights surrounding them. Hansol sat in the passenger seat, soft music coming from the radio. 

“How’d you like the rehearsal?” Seungcheol asked, and Hansol turned his head to look at him. 

“It was really cool, actually,” Hansol said, a slow grin making its way across his face. “Seungkwan, I think — he was so good. I didn’t know guys could sing like that.”

“Seungkwan, huh?” Seungcheol glanced over at Hansol, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Anything in particular about him?”

A flush spread across Hansol’s cheeks, the red barely visible in the dimming light. “He’s cute,” he mumbled, gaze dropping to his hands. “Like, really cute.”

“You seemed to be getting on with him really well, hmm?” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Cheol.” Hansol punched Seungcheol lightly on the arm, a light smile on his face despite his words. “I could say the same for you and Jeonghan. Real smooth, seducing the director.”

“I’m not seducing him!” Seungcheol protested. Hansol gave him a knowing grin. “Not on purpose!” He paused, processing what Hansol meant. “Wait, you think he likes me?”

“He at least thinks you’re hot,” Hansol said, fingers drumming idly against the dashboard. “C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t seen how he’s been looking at you.”

“That’s  _ acting _ ,” Seungcheol hissed, flicking on the windshield wipers once he noticed the small droplets hitting the glass. “Our characters are supposed to be in love, it’d be dumb if he didn’t at least look slightly attracted to me.”

Hansol let out a small ‘tch,’ gaze turning to look out the window. “You only see what happens on the stage.” 

“Yeah, well, whatever happens on the stage isn’t real.”

“Prove it.”

The car slowed to a stop, red light filtering in through the windshield. “What?”

“Prove that it’s all just acting,” Hansol reiterated, a daring note in his voice. “If you can show me that I’m just reading too much into it, I’ll let you tease me about Seungkwan as much as you want. If I’m right, you can’t say anything about it no matter how much you want to.”

“Alright, fine.” Seungcheol pressed gently on the gas pedal, easing the car down another street and then around a corner. They pulled into a parkade, both of them exiting the car once parked — their father had opted to send Hansol to live in the same apartment complex as Seungcheol once he received his acceptance letter for university, but insisted on giving them their own apartments despite how much they pleaded. “You’ll have more privacy this way,” he said, figure imposing and voice made of steel. “I don’t want you two distracting each other at this crucial point in your education.” So the two had conceded, although Hansol was in Seungcheol’s apartment so often they might as well have added him to the lease. 

They parted ways at the tenth floor.

+

**seungcheol  
** hello i was wondering if everyone would   
like to go for coffee on thursday before   
rehearsal (providing none of us have class)

**jeonghan  
** man u even text formal what kind of  
rich kid bullshit is this

**seungkwan  
** these chat names are so boring lets  
spice it up a little

_ ‘seungkwan’ changed his name to ‘mythic bitch’ _

_ ‘mythic bitch’ changed ‘hansol’s’ name to ‘nerd’ _

_ ‘mythic bitch’ changed ‘jeonghan’s’ name to ‘veronica but gay’ _

_ ‘‘mythic bitch’ changed ‘joshua’s’ name to ‘heather #2’ _

_ ‘mythic bitch’ changed ‘seungcheol’s’ name to ‘jason DICK’ _

_ ‘mythic bitch’ changed ‘jihoon’s’  name to ‘small’ _

**small  
** hey fuck you im not small

**mythic bitch  
** yes you are

**small  
** ok well spiritually i hope you   
know i am seven feet tall

**veronica but gay  
** see cheol jihoon is rich but he  
doesnt talk like he goes to  
some fancy prep school

**jason DICK  
** fuck you thats just how i text  
anyways are we on for coffee or not

**nerd  
** Hey wait I object I’m not a nerd

**mythic bitch  
** ur in ENGINEERING  
how are you NOT a nerd  
ur even capitalizing everything

**nerd  
** .  
Okay, fair  
Also yes coffee sounds good

**heather #2  
** im probably free!! and  
caffeine is always better  
with friends

**veronica but gay  
** why does that sound like some  
fucked up drug promoting ad  
“just remember kids: caffeine is  
always better with friends!!”

**heather #2  
** shut up it does Not

**mythic bitch  
** i always get coffee before  
rehearsal anyways  
why not

**small  
** ill be there  
late  
but ill be there

**veronica but gay  
** hell yeah the whole gang is here

**jason DICK  
** this group chat was a mistake

+

**unknown number  
** hey uh this is seungcheol right  
i got your number from jeonghan  
its yoongi

**seungcheol  
** oh  
uh hi

**yoongi  
** can i call you  
its about jihoon

**seungcheol  
** yeah sure

Seungcheol’s phone rang as soon as his text sent, a shaky “ _ Hello?”  _ coming from the speaker as he accepted the call.

“You wanted to talk about Jihoon?”

A heavy sigh, and some cloth rustled like Yoongi was readjusting his position. “ _ I get the feeling that I kinda fucked up.” _

“Yeah, no shit,” Seungcheol said, spinning a pencil between his fingers. “Jihoon called me earlier and he was an absolute wreck.”

Yoongi let out a short, dry laugh before saying, “ _ Guess I didn’t stop and think about how much can change in five years.”  _

A lot  _ had  _ changed in the five years since Yoongi had left, and most of it hadn’t been for the better. Seungcheol had watched as Jihoon’s father had cracked down even harder on the two children he had left — forcing Jihoon into a business major despite their previous plans for him to go into engineering. “You’ll be taking over the family business,” his father had said, (at least, according to Jihoon) “now that that useless bastard is gone. You’re the heir to the Lee company, our fortune, and our name, so you’d  _ better _ not fuck it up.” And Jihoon had complied. 

Seungcheol had watched as Jihoon slowly lost pieces of himself that Yoongi had helped to keep hidden, as he slowly slipped into isolation since no one in his family seemed to want him around if they didn’t need him for something at that very moment. Aside from Joshua and Seungcheol, Jihoon had been very,  _ very _ alone for the past few years, and the only cause that Seungcheol could reasonably see was Yoongi. 

“ _ I want to fix things, _ ” Yoongi said, and that got Seungcheol’s attention. “ _ I love him so much — he’s my brother, of course I love him — and it hurts me so much to know that me leaving really had such a negative impact on him.”  _ He let out a deep sigh, and Seungcheol wondered if his eyes were drooping with exhaustion, if he was pushing a hand through his hair and down his face in the way that only comes with true tiredness. “ _ I can’t just let him go. Not again.” _

“You want me to help you make things right with Jihoon?” Seungcheol asked, more to make sure that this was really what Yoongi wished than to clarify what he’d just said. “Ballsy move, considering Jihoon told me he never wanted to talk to you again.”

Yoongi let out a big woosh of air, sounding like he’d just been sucker punched. (Seungcheol had been aiming to guilt trip him, to see how far he’d really go to make things right. If he was going to do this for Jihoon, he was going to do it  _ right _ .) “ _ Even if he’s said he never wants to talk to me again, I still have to try. I’d never be able to live with myself otherwise.” _

Seungcheol let the moment sit, enough to make Yoongi sweat, before saying, “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

A sigh of relief escaped Yoongi, tension draining from his voice as he asked, “ _ What do you think would prove to Jihoon that I care? _ ”

“Well, he’s upset about the fact that you never reached out to him in the past,” Seungcheol said. “And you can’t exactly go back in time to change that.”

“ _ I only did that because that  _ man _ ,”  _ Yoongi said, voice dripping with contempt and making it evident who he was referring to, “ _ told me he’d hurt Jihoon and Chan if I ever tried to get in contact with them. I couldn’t risk him hurting them, too.” _

“But what you didn’t see was that they still got hurt.” Images flashed through Seungcheol’s mind — Jihoon showing up to his house clutching a bright red cheek and swollen eye, Jihoon calling him in tears after his father completely trashed an art project of his that was due the next day, Jihoon crying on Seungcheol’s floor because he got accepted into university and had to go major in business, had to go prepare himself to take over his father’s corporation — and resentment flared in him, enough that he almost told Yoongi everything, wanted to make Yoongi hurt the same way Jihoon had after he’d left. “You were the only thing shielding Jihoon from your father, and you were the only thing Jihoon had left to remember your mother. I know you weren’t able to see that — you only saw an escape, and you took it — but Jihoon saw it. And he remembered.”

Yoongi swore under his breath. “ _ How much worse was it for him — after I left?” _

“Considering Jihoon was alone with your father, your step-mother, and the child that those two had?” Seungcheol let out a dry laugh. “Bad. And he can’t risk escaping the same way you did.”

Yoongi went really quiet, to the point where Seungcheol couldn’t hear anything but his gentle breaths. “ _ We’re going to get him out.” _

Shock shot through Seungcheol’s system, followed by a wave of disbelief that almost caused him to drop his phone. “We—  _ what _ ? Yoongi, how the fuck are we going to do that?”

“ _ Fuck if I know, but we can’t just let him get hurt like this. The only way for him to start to heal is to get out of there.” _

Seungcheol let out a heavy sigh, equal parts apprehension and acceptance settling in his stomach. “I know you’re right, but it sounds like such a terrible idea.”

“ _ In a situation like this, the bad ideas are probably the best ones.” _

“Well, let’s at least start with a good one. First order of business: getting Jihoon to trust you again.” Seungcheol allowed himself a small grin, settling back in his chair. “And I think I know exactly how.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at some point between the publishing of chapter 7 and this chapter i realized this project has officially crossed 20k words if you include what i have written for chapter 9 and i think that is pretty awesome not gonna lie
> 
> i'm still a little on the fence about this idea just because of the workload at school that's been hitting me recently but i Might Possibly use this fic as my nanowrimo project! technically it doesnt follow the real rules of nanowrimo considering i started it back in june but it would be extremely cool if i could finish it this month hehe
> 
> comments and kudos motivate me to get this done faster!! thank u all so much for reading this~


	9. Coffee Cliches and Soft Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they go on a triple date to the smile flower, jihoon experiences some Angst, and seungcheol ropes jeonghan into yet another matchmaking scheme.

Seungcheol pushed opened the door to  _ Smile Flower _ at 2:30 on the dot, quickly catching sigh of Seungkwan sitting in the back corner. Jihoon and Hansol followed him in, Hansol quickly sliding into the seat across from Seungkwan and easily slipping into conversation as Jihoon and Seungcheol took their own seats. 

“I thought Jihoon said he was going to be late?” Seungkwan said by way of question, raising an interrogative eyebrow in Jihoon’s direction. 

“I forced him out of early hibernation,” Seungcheol replied, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “That’s why we’re a bit late.”

“You guys are right on time, but alright.” Seungkwan seemed satisfied with Seungcheol’s answer, opting now to ignore both him and Jihoon and hit Hansol with a barrage of questions, flirting, and teasing. (This kid was ruthless, poor little Hansol didn’t stand a chance.) Seungcheol decided now would be a good time to leave, and went to go order drinks for the three of them. 

By the time he got back to the table, three steaming drinks and a box of pastries in hand, Jeonghan and Joshua were seated across from him and Jihoon, an amicable conversation already in progress as he slid the drinks onto the table. “What’d you get?” Jeonghan asked, eyeing Seungcheol’s cup.

“The  _ Pretty U  _ latte,” Seungcheol replied on a reflex, just now seeing Jeonghan’s outfit. His hair was braided into a neat plait, twisting over his left shoulder, and the blue denim shirt he was wearing with a plain white t-shirt beneath it somehow managed to not clash with the hairstyle. His eyes sparkled with light and joy, and a few stray locks of hair curled gently beside his jaw. (Damn it, it was so unfair that Jeonghan looked that good with long hair.) (Maybe Seungcheol had a thing for long hair on guys? It never really seemed to be a factor with the girls he had found attractive before, but — dammit, now was not the time for self-discovery!)

“I’m taking some,” Jeonghan said before pulling the mug over to his side of the table, taking a tentative sip despite Seungcheol’s numerous protests. “Hey, wait, that isn’t bad.”

“You ever come here before?” Seungcheol asked, stealing his mug back and taking his own sip. He tried to ignore the fact that there were butterflies in his stomach over the fact that he had just shared a drink with Jeonghan, something he would have gotten excited over in middle school and  _ definitely _ shouldn’t have been this happy about now, in his third year of university. 

Jeonghan took the mug again, and this time Seungcheol couldn’t even be bothered to protest. “Joshua and I mostly stick to  _ Heart Shaker _ ,” he said, “but I’ll definitely remember this as a close runner-up.” 

There was a bit of cream stuck to his upper lip, and Seungcheol was about to reach over the table and lick it off — you know, if he wasn’t so obsessed with his public image, and also wasn’t convinced that Jeonghan probably hated him. “You’ve got cream on your lip,” was what he said instead, letting out a small snicker as Jeonghan managed to miss it three times in a row.

“Stop laughing, this isn’t fucking funny,” Jeonghan whined, smearing half of the cream onto the side of his cheek. Seungcheol muffled another chuckle, grabbing a napkin and standing up to reach over the table. 

“Here, you dumbass,” Seungcheol said, using the napkin to gently dab away the remaining cream, only realizing after the fact that he was really close to Jeonghan’s face, and a pair of soft-looking pink lips. An inexplicable flush made its way to his face, and he sat back in his chair, averting his gaze from Jeonghan. 

The bells attached to the door of the shop rang, and Seungcheol’s eyes tracked the movement, resting on a figure clad in white and black, familiar mint-green catching Seungcheol’s attention immediately. Two other figures followed Yoongi in, and Seungcheol swore under his breath. So much for the plan they’d made three days ago — this unexpected run-in between the estranged brothers would be anything but good. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out when Jihoon spotted him, all the air leaving him as though he’d been punched. He pushed his chair back from the table, a loud  _ screech _ interrupting the raucous conversation around him, and was off like a shot, running into the men’s bathroom before Yoongi had even shown signs of noticing the six of them in the corner. Joshua gave Seungcheol a concerned look, and Seungcheol whispered, “Maybe go check on him.” Joshua nodded, then pushed his chair back and followed Jihoon into the men’s room. 

“What was that all about?” Jeonghan asked, brows beginning to furrow in concern.

“Yoongi,” Seungcheol said, and that was all that was needed for Jeonghan’s expression to shift from confusion to understanding. “Josh went to make sure he was okay.”

Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, regarding Seungcheol with something that could almost be called awe. “You absolute motherfucker — you knew that if Jihoon was upset Joshua would want to help him out, and used that to get them alone on what was supposed to be just a friendly outing.”

Seungcheol gave Jeonghan nothing more than a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared,” Jeonghan said, reaching across the table to pick up Seungcheol’s drink. (Seungcheol didn’t bother to stop him, and some part of him just accepted that yes, he was getting slightly flustered over the fact that Jeonghan was sharing a drink with him. The rational part of his brain called his heart dumb, but his heart couldn’t hear his mind over the sounds of Jeonghan asking if Seungcheol minded them just splitting this drink instead of him buying another one.) 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Seungkwan said, and Jeonghan and Seungcheol immediately protested, a faint blush spreading across Seungcheol’s face. “Hansolie and I are going to order something to eat — don’t get too friendly while we’re gone!” His voice held endless innocence despite the teasing nature of his words, and Seungcheol only now started to see what Jeonghan was talking about when he called Seungkwan an amazing actor. 

The two freshmen left the table, chatting amiably as they waited in line. Hansol had a soft, sweet smile on his face — Seungcheol let out a laugh, watching as his brother’s gaze followed Seungkwan with what could only be described as heart eyes. Jeonghan noticed Seungcheol’s change of attention, turning in his chair to see exactly what Seungcheol was already observing. 

“Hansol told me he thinks Seungkwan is— how’d he put it— ‘really cute,’” Seungcheol said, trying his best to keep his voice serious. (He couldn’t help the teasing note that slipped into his voice — it was just too fun to get Hansol flustered, to watch him be soft and sweet around someone who seemed to mesh with him so well.) “Now, I realize we’re already playing matchmaker for Jihoon and Joshua, but—”

Jeonghan let out a groan. “Seungcheol, you’ve gotta stop meddling in everyone’s love lives.”

“Look at how happy he is!” Seungcheol said by way of protest. Jeonghan looked back over at where the two younger boys were standing, eyes softening as he watched them. “Hansol’s never dated before, because he hasn’t wanted to come out to our parents, but I think he’d be willing to do it with someone like Seungkwan.  _ For _ someone like Seungkwan.”

A heavy sigh escaped Jeonghan’s throat, and he gave Seungcheol a wry grin. “So you rope me in with the tragic backstory and the emotional weight of helping a baby gay come out — I see how it is.” 

“Did it work?” Seungcheol asked, and Jeonghan conceded, taking a sip of Seungcheol’s latte instead of protesting. “I trust you’ll help me organize more outings like this? And that Hansol is welcome to watch rehearsals if he wishes?”

“As long as he doesn’t interrupt, or distract Seungkwan too much,” Jeonghan replied. “We’ve still got a show to run.” 

Seungcheol caught sight of Hansol over Jeonghan’s shoulder, a genuine smile on his face illuminated by the sunlight streaming in from the cafe windows. He extended a hand across the table, training his gaze on Jeonghan’s face, eyes a warm chocolate brown and soft despite the scheming smirk on his face. “Deal?”

Jeonghan grabbed his hand, giving it a firm shake before downing the rest of Seungcheol’s latte. 

“Deal.”

+

The linoleum tile of the bathroom floor was cool against Jihoon’s cheek, providing a welcome relief from the heat of his spinning thoughts. Some small, rational part of his brain told him that the floor was probably full of germs, and that bathrooms really weren’t the most clean place to have a mental breakdown, but the rest of his head quickly told that part of him to shut the fuck up. 

Yoongi. Why was Yoongi at the cafe, and why had it sent Jihoon into a spiral?

_ You know exactly why _ , another part of him whispered, this part less kind and more sharp than the others.  _ You can’t face him again, can’t bear to have him see how much of a failure you’ve become — and what happened at the last practice for the musical really didn’t help things, now, did it? _

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Jihoon hissed, squeezing his eyes shut tight, the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights still piercing past his eyelids and giving everything a red glow. “You’re wrong, you have to be wrong—”

“Jihoon?”

A familiar voice cut through the quiet of the bathroom, soft and sweet. Jihoon paused in his admonitions, too confused by the arrival of someone else to give his worries any more thought. “Joshua?” he said, voice coming out cracked and hoarse. 

Joshua’s face appeared, crouching below the countertop. “Any particular reason why you’re under the sink?” 

Jihoon pushed himself to a sitting position, almost ashamed of the little sniffle he gave as he wiped stray tears from his eyes. “It’s comfortable?” he tried, the laughter that burst from Josh causing the corners of his lips to twitch up. 

“It can’t be  _ that _ comfortable,” Joshua replied, taking a seat next to Jihoon and reaching over to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. His hands were soft and warm against Jihoon’s skin, gentle as they brushed gently over the surface of his face. “Don’t be afraid to tell me the real reason you ran away.”

Those last two words pierced right into Jihoon’s heart, causing him to wince away from Joshua, even as he stared at him with nothing but concern and care in his eyes. “I’m always running away,” Jihoon mumbled, not daring to look Joshua in the eyes. “ _ He’s _ always running away, too — wonder where I learned that from.”

Joshua let out a soft sigh, wrapping an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders, even as Jihoon tensed at the contact. His thumb rubbed circles against Jihoon’s arm, the rhythmic motions calming him down despite the way his mind was swirling. “You’re not guilty of anything, Jihoon. You’ve done the best you could.” 

Jihoon couldn’t stop the choked noise that escaped him, a bittersweet smile on his face. “How am I  _ not _ guilty here, Josh?” His voice was spilling over with desperation, eyes brimming with tears. “He finally reaches out after years— and this is the only thing I’ve ever really  _ wanted _ — and the first thing I do is complain about how hard things are now?” The tears started to fall, hot trails streaming down Jihoon’s cheeks. He knew his eyes would be swollen and red as soon as he stopped crying, knew that he’d have to walk back out of the cafe looking like he had an allergic reaction, and that only made things worse. “I pretty much told him I never wanted to talk to him again, how can you say that I’m not  _ guilty _ ?”

Silence settled over them, and all Joshua could do was squeeze Jihoon a little tighter, hold him a little closer. “You didn’t make Yoongi walk away,” he said, voice soft but still somehow laced with steel and strength. “You didn’t make your father act the way he did. You’ve tried your best to please everyone, to hold on to your mother and to Yoongi without ostracizing yourself from the family you have left.” He turned Jihoon around, so their gazes met and Jihoon could see all the raw  _ emotion _ present in Joshua’s eyes. “You’ve done so well,” he continued, a soft smile on his face. “And I’m so proud of how far you’ve come in spite of all the world has thrown at you.”

It was horribly inappropriate, considering they were sitting beneath the sinks in the bathroom of a local cafe, and Jihoon had just had a minor (major) breakdown about his family trauma and estranged brother, but all he could think was  _ God, what I wouldn’t give to kiss him _ . (And mentally beat himself up immediately after, because there was no way Joshua would ever think of him like that.)

“I still think I should be blamed at least a  _ little _ for what went wrong,” Jihoon muttered sullenly, but this was more out of stubborness than any genuine belief. “C’mon, it means nothing that I couldn’t even hug him?”

Joshua let out a small ‘tch,’ tugging Jihoon over so they were well and truly cuddling beneath the counter. (Or, at least, the best they could with so little space.) “It’ll take a lot more than playing to my emotions to get me to think you’re in the wrong,” he said, turning his head to press a soft kiss against the crown of Jihoon’s head. Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat, and he was so glad that Joshua couldn’t see his face at the moment, because he was sure it was burning a hot red. 

“Guess I’ll just have to keep trying.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jihoon smiled softly to himself, the lingering touch of Joshua’s lips against his hair a warm ghostly memory. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone tell me why i keep giving 2ji all the angst that is literally my baby jihoon i keep hurting someone stop me
> 
> they became way too important of a subplot but u kno what?? that is ok i love them
> 
> as promised i am trying my best to nanowrimo the shit out of this fic!! i've got a long weekend coming up from school so i can hopefully bang out a chapter or two then, but im pretty happy with how this is progressing so far
> 
> kudos and comments will get me through the hell that is nanowrimo!!!


	10. Dead Boy Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol and jeonghan make out a lot, and realize that maybe there's some feelings getting in the way of this being just a simple work relationship.

Aside from Jihoon exiting the bathroom with slightly swollen eyes, the rest of the coffee date was uneventful, and all of them managed to arrive to rehearsal on time. (After a bit of prodding, Hansol had offered Seungkwan a ride in his car, leaving those two together as Jihoon went with Seungcheol and Joshua tagged along with Jeonghan. A nice move on Seungcheol’s part, if he dared say so.) (He did dare.)

Attendance was taken, the agenda for the day was gone over, and before long Seungcheol found himself up on the stage, squinting into the harsh lights as Joshua directed from the audience. 

“First full run through of _Dead Girl Walking_ ,” Joshua said, voice full of enthusiasm. “You two ready?”

A thousand possibilities flashed through Seungcheol’s head, most of them involving kissing Jeonghan. “Sure,” he managed to stammer out, while Jeonghan just flashed a thumbs up in Joshua’s direction. With a nod from Joshua, the piano began to play, tapping out an all-too familiar introduction. Jeonghan began to sing, Seungcheol in awe of his voice and his natural stage presence, just like all the times before. Jeonghan approached, eyes half-lidded and dripping with want, pressing a soft finger against Seungcheol’s lips as he shushed him. All of this was still familiar, still something they’d rehearsed in practices before, something Joshua had critiqued them on and they’d worked to its bare bones trying to perfect. The words that escaped Jeonghan’s mouth were filled to overflowing with passion, pleading and wishing and hoping and everything Seungcheol could ever hope or wish for. 

Even though Seungcheol was fully aware that this was just a musical, too aware of the bright stage lights hitting his eyes and the watching gazes of the rest of the cast from the audience, it was hard to remind himself that this was just acting. Even harder to remind himself that Jeonghan was just an actor, and that anything he showed here was just a product of his craft. 

“ _Let’s make this beautiful,_ ” Jeonghan sang, ringing out loud and clear through the auditorium. Things seemed to suspend themselves for a moment, a single second, everything hanging in the air. Jeonghan stood above him, eyes glimmering in the stage lights, face open and eager. 

“ _That works for me,”_ Seungcheol sang in reply, and Jeonghan grabbed his face, mashing their lips together in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft against Seungcheol’s, despite the almost desperate way they were touching, and Seungcheol responded in kind, meeting Jeonghan halfway. Joshua had told them to not worry about clothes just yet — this run through had been just for the acting, the kissing that they’d been putting off for much too long — so they only parted when Jeonghan had to come up for air, belting out his next note as he ground his hips against Seungcheol’s. His knees were on either side of Seungcheol’s hips, body resting just below Seungcheol’s waistline as he sang and acted and looked at Seungcheol with all this passion and love, and it hurt so much to remember that none of this was real. 

“ _Yeah! Full steam ahead, take this dead girl walking,”_ Jeonghan sang, eyes shut and head tipped back, bathed in the bright lights of the stage. Seungcheol almost missed his response line, completely and utterly enamoured with the way that Jeonghan’s hair caught the light, the ecstasy on his soft features. 

Like it or not, Seungcheol appeared to be well and truly whipped for Jeonghan.

All too soon, they hit their final harmony, both left breathless and sweaty as the note faded away into the air of the auditorium. Applause sounded out from around the audience, a couple wolf whistles coming from somewhere vaguely to the left. (It was probably Jihoon. Or Mingyu.)

“Nice job with the kissing sequence,” Joshua yelled, leaping up onto the stage. “Really convinced us you two were just a pair of horny teenagers.”

Seungcheol didn’t dare look at Jeonghan, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt and willfully ignoring the fact that he was half-hard in his jeans, shifting in a way that skillfully hid him from the bright, unyielding glare of the stage lights. 

“Y’all got some _serious_ chemistry!” Mingyu called out, a wolf whistle coming from beside him. (Maybe the whistles from earlier had been Wonwoo — who would have thought?) “If this’ll be even better than it is now by show night? The audience better prepare themselves!”

Flustered, Seungcheol shot back with, “Who even says y’all?” and managed to disarm Mingyu enough to temporarily distract him from the apparent _chemistry_ between him and Jeonghan. 

Joshua continued on, giving Seungcheol and Jeonghan a few notes and compliments on their performance before telling them both to go practice on their own for a bit, and that they’d run the number again a couple of times at the end of practice. Seungcheol was glad to get away from Jeonghan and the energy that crackled between them like the sparks produced when flint hits metal, taking his flushed face and swirling thoughts to an abandoned change room backstage. 

He set his script and sheet music on the counter of the change room, gripping the edges of the counter as he stared at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were tinted a faint red, lips swollen pink from the kisses of earlier, hair mussed and dishevelled. Seungcheol looked a mess, frankly, and he didn’t know how much of it he could blame on the scene they had just performed. What was _up_ with him? First getting flustered about Jeonghan sharing his coffee earlier, now getting aroused by just a bit of kissing — this wasn’t something Seungcheol was familiar with or prepared for at _all_. 

Seungcheol had never really had the opportunity to date for most of his life, the extent of his experience being that one time in high school where he and Jihoon had experimented (they don’t talk about it, and to this day, they’re the only two aware of anything that had happened between them), and the few blind dates his parents had set up with heiresses of other companies and rich families, something he and his parents both recognized to benefit them, despite the reservations Seungcheol had around his personal happiness during these arrangements. It was a combination of both his parents’ harsh restriction in their attempts to guide Seungcheol on what they deemed to be the right path, and Seungcheol himself working hard to achieve what he wanted, leaving himself no time for frivolities such as dating between the hard work he was doing both in and out of school to make it to where he wished to be in life. 

He looked again at his reflection, and hardly recognized the person staring back at him. Hair mussed, lips swollen a soft pink, eyes wild — gone was the restrained Seungcheol that had walked into the auditorium barely more than a week ago. He brought a gentle hand to his lips, the ghosts of Jeonghan’s kisses lingering long after they had come to pass. It was almost disgusting, how different he was, from just a few days worth of acting and a few conversations held in coffee shops, and rage filled him, his fist slamming against the countertop and imagining it to be the mirror, with its false images and harsh realities. 

And yet.

When Seungcheol thought back on the past few days, a warm glow settled itself in his stomach. He felt happy, and light, and more alive than he’d ever thought he was capable of feeling. Images of Jeonghan — Jeonghan sipping a coffee, a pensive look on his face; Jeonghan with his hair in a braid, toying almost nervously with the ends; Jeonghan on the very first day he’d met him, hair half up and pinned out of the way as Seungcheol sang his way onto the stage — flitted through Seungcheol’s head, and his chest physically _ached_ with how much he felt. 

It also did not help him any to remember Jeonghan from a few mere minutes ago, hands rough and controlling but still gentle somehow, lips locked against Seungcheol’s in a sort of feverish, passion-fuelled haze, fingers twined in the soft locks at the nape of Seungcheol’s neck and traveling down to press against the small of his back, eyes half-lidded and full of _want_. It took Seungcheol a moment to remember that it was acting, that all of that had just been for show, and now he was some weird combination of sad and aroused. 

The kisses themselves hadn’t been awkward — had been far from such, what with how Jeonghan completely took control and Seungcheol merely had to follow his lead, lips moving against soft, plush lips as the piano played furiously in the background. It had been enough to provoke a wolf-whistle or three from Mingyu, enough for even Joshua to be impressed despite it being their first time practicing. They’d been — _nice_ , actually, sending soft butterflies into Seungcheol’s stomach even as he reminded himself again and again that this was nothing more than pretend. But it would definitely awkward to look Jeonghan in the eye again, when all Seungcheol could see in his mind’s eye was Jeonghan straddling him, haloed by the bright stage lights, and all he could feel when he closed his eyes was the insistent press of Jeonghan’s lips against his, tongue slipping past his defenses and dominating his mouth. 

Seungcheol turned away from the row of mirrors, sliding down to the ground and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. The worst part about this whole thing was that it had only confirmed the thing he had been dreading the most — that Seungcheol had somehow, inexplicably caught feelings for Jeonghan. With his eyes shut, as he let his mind wander, all Seungcheol saw was hopes for the future, a future where Jeonghan was inextricably woven into every last part. 

His eyes flew open, and a sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. How cliche it was, to fall for someone in the process of pretending to be in love. 

+

“You seem quiet.”

Jeonghan turned, catching sight of Joshua’s familiar smile as he took a seat next to him. “Shouldn’t you be onstage?”

“Nah, they’re practicing _The Me Inside Of Me_ , and I figured I could take a backseat while the ensemble and Seungkwan got their chance to shine.” Surely enough, Seungkwan was having the time of his life on the stage, still managing to send Jeonghan into new spirals of awe with how much raw fucking _talent_ this kid had even three months into production. Josh turned to Jeonghan, a smile on his face that appeared amicable to the untrained eye but full of mischief to Jeonghan’s. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

A sigh escaped Jeonghan’s mouth as he leaned back in his chair. “Bold of you to assume I’m not always this quiet.”

Joshua let out a laugh. “You? Always quiet? In what world?” They shared a smile, then Joshua asked, “What’s bugging you?”

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan said, pushing annoyance into his voice to hide the thoughts swirling in his head. “Seriously, he comes in after we’ve already been practicing for three months and blows us away enough for us to make him the JD understudy? And on top of that, he ends up _actually having the role_ because Tae’s dumb enough to fall out of a fucking tree?” Joshua let out a small laugh at that, eyes travelling back to the stage, where Taehyung’s having a passionate argument with Jimin about the staging for the number, bright green cast almost neon in the stage lights. “He’s in pre-med, too,” Jeonghan continued, no longer able to keep the annoyance in his voice. “How is he so fucking perfect?”

“So it’s more than just annoyance,” Joshua said, a small smirk spreading across his face. “Is it possible that the cool, professional, level-headed director-slash-lead of the play fell for his opposing actor?”

“Kindly shut the fuck up, Joshua,” Jeonghan shot back, feeling heat spread into his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I’m not falling for anyone! Let alone Snooty McRich over there.”

“So you’re telling me that everything that’s happened on that stage has been just acting?” Joshua quirked an eyebrow at Jeonghan, the smirk a permanent fixture on his face as he noticed the red spreading across Jeonghan’s face. “You’re telling me you really only took Seungcheol on a _completely platonic friend date_ to your _favourite cafe_ because you respected him as a colleague?”

“When you put it that way,” Jeonghan mumbled, “it kinda looks like I like him, huh.” He slid down in his seat, covering his face with his hands. “I swear it’s not as big as it seems.”

Joshua patted Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Sure. Anyways, how was kissing him on the stage earlier?”

“Fuck off, Joshua,” Jeonghan groaned, heat flooding his face as he remembered the way he’d just _grabbed_ Seungcheol, one hand tangled in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck as their lips pressed together. He’d smelled like some sort of cologne, but then like something softer beneath it — it reminded Jeonghan of all the soft lattes he was so fond of, the scent of coffee still present but masked beneath an endless amount of frothy milk and flavoured syrups. The taste of the latte they’d shared at _Smile Flower_ lingered on Seungcheol’s tongue, and it had taken almost all of Jeonghan’s willpower to wrench his lips from Seungcheol’s in order to continue the song. And god, Seungcheol had looked so thoroughly _wrecked_ when Jeonghan was through with him, his normally carefully coiffed hair ruffled and loose and his lips swollen a slight pink. (If Jeonghan had his way, he would have pulled Seungcheol into a room backstage, locked the door, and postponed rehearsal until they were through.) “So maybe he’s hot. And maybe I like him a little.”

“Then maybe show him that all of _this_ ,” Joshua said, hands gesturing up and down Jeonghan’s body on the final word, “isn’t just for the stage. That you aren’t just playing a part.”

“But I _am_ playing a part,” Jeonghan protested, to which Joshua gave a generous eyeroll. “What! I am!”

“You’re telling me you’re not self projecting?” Joshua replied, sending Jeonghan a knowing glance. “Not even a little?”

Joshua was right, and Jeonghan hated him a little for it. 

But come on. The chance to make out with his (maybe) crush for an indefinite amount of time between now and April? To pretend to be in love with someone that would probably never look twice at him, but that Jeonghan couldn’t get out of his mind? Even if it hurt him a little on the way, there was no denying how much he wanted this — and how much he was enjoying it. And okay, maybe self-projecting onto a pretty mentally-fucked up character where her love interest is an abusive, manipulative bastard isn’t the best idea, but the fact remained that Veronica and JD were in love throughout the musical, and the fact remained that Jeonghan was slowly falling more and more for Seungcheol with every passing day, every shared glance, every laugh and sigh and quick brush of hands. 

“Jeonghan, I wanna run _Candy Store_ ,” Seungkwan yelled from the stage, and Jeonghan slowly shook away the thoughts of Seungcheol, even as they stuck to him like cobwebs. Collect them all and put them away, and deal with them later — Jeonghan’s personal motto for anything troubling him. Was it the best? Probably not. But did it work? Hell yeah.

Jeonghan followed Joshua onto the stage, slipping into a role he could hide behind to forget the parts of him he’d rather not face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sue me, dead girl walking has the best and most material for me to work off of without actually making this a songfic (plus its just fun to have them makeout before they're anywhere near revealing their feelings for one another)
> 
> it is currently 12:20 am where i live, but i got this done and i'd be damned if i didnt post it for you guys right away
> 
> honestly not doing too bad in terms of keeping a semi consistent schedule and also being happy with what i put out!! hopefully i can at least get to chapter 14 by the end of this month hehe
> 
> comments and kudos fuel me through the endless hell of nanowrimo!!


	11. A Life? With Me?? It's More Likely Than You Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning!! small amount of physical abuse right at the very end - if this is a trigger for u please skip from the break ( + ) to the end of the chapter! important plot points will be summarized in end notes.

Spring came, but even as the snow melted away, Seungcheol’s feelings for Jeonghan lingered. Seungcheol had been an official part of the production for around two months now, and he found himself sliding easily into the community the cast had built despite the small nagging voice in the back of his head warning him against this way of life and consorting with those who valued something as trivial as musical theatre so highly. Mingyu would greet him with a smile and a wave at the beginning of practices, and even Seungkwan — who had been so frosty to him that Seungcheol swore he walked away from each practice with ice in his hair from the power of Seungkwan’s glares alone — had warmed up to him, giving him reluctant compliments if Seungcheol really managed to impress him. 

They were running one of the few scenes Jeonghan  _ wasn’t _ involved in, that  _ Seungcheol _ also wasn’t involved in —  _ Lifeboat  _ into  _ Shine a Light (Reprise) _ —  and short although it was, Seungcheol relished the few moments where he could be himself around Jeonghan, rather than donning the mask for the part he played and seeing him as only who he was in the context of the play, rather than as the three-dimensional human Seungcheol was oh-so-infatuated with. He turned his gaze away from the stage, coming to rest on Jeonghan’s features. Illuminated by the glow from the stage lights, his eyes turned a molten gold beneath the warm chocolate brown, hair glowing with a soft amber sheen as he watched the stage. A few stray locks of hair curled against his face, the rest of his hair tucked into a neat ponytail behind him. 

God, Jeonghan was beautiful. 

Jeonghan shifted his gaze from the stage, and Seungcheol quickly whipped his head away so he didn’t catch him staring. (The flush that spread across his face probably did nothing to carry that ruse.) “Like the view?”

Of course he caught Seungcheol staring. 

“I don’t know, do you think you’re worth admiring?” Seungcheol shot back, falling back on the familiar rhythm of banter they’d built in the past couple of months to escape the wriggly feelings in his chest. A comfortable silence spread between them, the ease of camaraderie new and old at the same time. 

“I have something to—”

“I wanted to ask—”

They both began to speak at the same time, laughing as soon as they realized their mistake. “Go ahead,” Jeonghan said, and Seungcheol took a deep breath, the weight of what he was about to say laying heavy against his chest. 

“I’m rescheduling my MCAT,” Seungcheol said, and shock, confusion, and elation somehow managed to simultaneously fly across Jeonghan’s face. The weight on his chest eased an incredible amount, the anxieties about his decision still present but tamed now that he’d vocalized what he’d been keeping to himself for about a week. “I figured, I didn’t want to write it before the musical debuts since I’d be too focused on that to commit to the show, and I’m kind of a lead, so that doesn’t really work, but I didn’t want it to be too soon after, so I rescheduled it for late May, and—”

“You’re rambling,” Jeonghan said, voice quiet yet firm. Seungcheol promptly shut up, watching Jeonghan for a response. After what seemed like too long and yet not long enough, Jeonghan opened his mouth to speak. “You rescheduled your MCAT?”

Seungcheol nodded, unsure if his vocal cords would even work anymore. 

“For the musical? The one you didn’t even want to be in two months ago?”

He nodded again. 

Jeonghan’s face broke into a huge grin, and he reached awkwardly over the seats to envelop Seungcheol in a massive hug. “Man, you really have changed from the snobby piece of shit that walked into the auditorium all those days ago.” Seungcheol took offense to being called a piece of shit, but hey, Jeonghan was complimenting him, it would be rude to interrupt. Warmth spread between their bodies at every point of contact, and Seungche1ol hoped it wouldn’t be his heart that gave him away, beating faster than it had any right to. Jeonghan broke the embrace, and the two of them settled back into their seats, Jeonghan twisting so he could face Seungcheol and Seungcheol doing the same. He gave Seungcheol a soft smile, warmth shooting through him at the sight. “I realize it’s only been two months,” Jeonghan said, “but I’m really glad I’ve been given the chance to get to know you.”

“Me too,” Seungcheol replied, not even a hit of falsehood in his voice. Before they could say anything more, Joshua called them up to the stage, their brief moment of respite from the endless rehearsing over. As Seungcheol made his way to the stage, he couldn’t help but reflect on the past couple of months — even though he had joined this musical to fulfill his inheritance task and get ahold of the two million his grandfather had left for him, he had somehow become attached to it, to the future success of the show, the wellbeing of the rest of the cast, the way he fit into the community they had built here. 

For once in his life, Seungcheol felt like he belonged, felt like he didn’t need to hide obscene amounts of who he was in order to be deemed ‘acceptable’ by the company he surrounded himself with. 

The rest of the cast filed off the stage, taking their places in the audience as Joshua directed from the lip of the stage. “We’re running  _ Seventeen _ ,” he said, eyes bright. “I know you’ve already rehearsed this one a lot, but it’s a really big number for Veronica and JD and I just really want to make sure we wring as much emotion as we can out of this bad boy.”

“No big,” Jeonghan replied, flippant and confident as ever. Seungcheol would have found this absolutely despicable behaviour in anyone else, but Jeonghan played it off with such an ease and grace that he found himself hanging onto every word rather than refusing to process anything Jeonghan said. (The tactic worked great on his father’s pompous work associates, though.) “We just gotta be fools in love — won’t be hard considering that’s like a good 75% of all our numbers together. Our dynamic is tight, right, Seungcheol?” He glanced over at Seungcheol, a crooked smirk on his face. Seungcheol swallowed hard and nodded, knowing anything he said right now would be absolute gibberish. 

Joshua let out a small ‘tch,’ crossing his arms. “Bold of you to assume that they’re just fools in love. You know what this song is about, right?”

“It’s Veronica telling JD to not be such a huge psychopath,” Jeonghan said, half-laughing at his own quip. Joshua laughed with him, because technically he was right, but Seungcheol had definitely not listened to this song way too much and totally didn’t analyze every single part of it. 

“It’s about their future,” Seungcheol said, quieter than he’d normally be. Jeonghan and Joshua both turned their attention to him, studying him with gazes more intense than the stage lights above. Seungcheol couldn’t meet their eyes, focusing on a piece of neon tape stuck to the stage to distract himself from the way all their attention was pinned firmly on them. “A future they want to have together.”

Seungcheol wasn’t proud to admit he’d spent hours upon hours psychoanalyzing every last bit of the  _ Heathers _ soundtrack, but it was something he’d done, and if he could put his wealth of useless knowledge to use? You’d best believe he would take that chance. “Veronica just wants to… imagine a future where they can be together, and be normal,” Seungcheol continued, more for his own sake than for anyone else’s. “To have a chance to be young again with the man she loves.”

Joshua let out a small noise that Seungcheol interpreted to mean he was impressed. “And here I thought you didn’t care about anything but your premed degree and med school apps.”

“Yeah, well, I care about  _ Heathers _ ,” Seungcheol mumbled, the tips of his ears heating up.  _ And Jeonghan _ , his mind ever-so-helpfully supplied, to which Seungcheol promptly told himself to shut up. 

“Anyways, Seungcheol hit it spot on,” Joshua continued. He gestured towards the two of them. “Jeonghan, you gotta really convey this want for a future that they definitely don’t get — Veronica might be a bit of an idealist here but boy oh  _ boy _ do you have to portray that idealism with all you have.” Joshua turned to Seungcheol, and the look he gave him was soft around the edges, a sharp contrast to the apprehension and vague friendliness normally found there. “I’m sure you already know what changes in JD throughout this song, but show the progression of his feelings and how Veronica convinces him of this life they can have, alright?” Seungcheol nodded, and Joshua took a step back, allowing the two of them to take their places on the stage before gesturing to Yoongi to start the piano. 

When Seungcheol next met eyes with Jeonghan, it wasn’t Jeonghan that was gazing back. His face was painted with an unholy mix of wistfulness and hope, of longing and sadness and an almost anger. It wasn’t the same man that Seungcheol had gotten coffee with earlier — this was Jeonghan at his best as an actor, completely channelling an entire different  _ person _ through the body that he just so happened to inhabit. He had become Veronica Sawyer, and Seungcheol rose up to meet him with his best. 

The song began to build, Jeonghan’s anger and sadness being channeled into his voice and causing a hot lump of tears to start making its way into Seungcheol’s throat.  _ Seventeen  _ had always been Seungcheol’s favourite song, but now? Singing it with the boy he was enamoured with, singing about a future they could have if only things were different, if only they gave themselves the chance to lay their weapons down and be free? It was a little painful, how much Seungcheol could see his own situation superimposed over that of the song. 

“ _ Don’t you want a life with me?” _ Jeonghan sang, and Seungcheol nearly broke character. He pushed through it, pushing his own feelings and those he imagined JD to be feeling onto his acting and simply losing himself to the performance. Music swirled around him and Jeonghan like wind in a storm, their embrace simply the eye of the storm, words twining with melody to life and join the breezes above. It was still hard for him to admit it, even after all this time, but performing — the rush of adrenaline that accompanied every second he was up on this stage, the now-familiar glare of the stage lights against his skin, the way he felt on top of the world as he stood on the stage and gazed out at the audience, an audience that would soon be filled to the brim with real, breathing people — never failed to give Seungcheol the pure joy that had been missing from the rest of his life.

The song drew to its end, their voices the only sounds filling the vast auditorium, the audience collectively holding their breath. Seungcheol’s arms were around Jeonghan at this point, pulling him close as Jeonghan clasped his hands around Seungcheol’s next. “ _ You’re the one I choose _ ,” they sang, Seungcheol’s field of view narrowing to the warmth and love in Jeonghan’s eyes as he looked at him, to the heat and press of Jeonghan’s skin against his as Seungcheol pressed his lips against for a soft, sweet kiss, the final notes of the piano ringing out throughout the auditorium. They separated to the sounds of applause coming from the audience, a very impressed Joshua standing at the head of the stage. 

“That was, hands-down,  _ the best _ I’ve ever seen that be performed,” Joshua said, glee lighting up his soft features. “If I knew that all it would take was some talking about the characters, we could have had this so good by now—”

Jeonghan glanced over at Seungcheol, giving him a slight grin. “I think we know exactly where to go from here.”

Seungcheol couldn’t wait for the onslaught of feelings and confusion this would surely bring for him later. 

+

The light in Jihoon’s apartment was already on when he got home. 

A familiar pair of shoes was stowed by the door, a jacket that stirred a few memories in the back of Jihoon’s mind hanging from the coathooks. He placed his own shoes at the door, dropping his bag on the floor as he made his way into the main room, a thick knot of dread settling in his stomach. 

His father sat on the couch, stern gaze tracking Jihoon as he entered the room. 

“You’re home late,” his father said, eyes unreadable. 

“I was—” Jihoon started, the words  _ at Seungcheol’s musical practice  _ on the tip of his tongue before he remembered who he was speaking to, and he wracked his brain desperately for a half-lie to fill that unacceptable space— “studying at Seungcheol’s apartment. He gave me a ride home.”

His father let out a soft ‘tch,’ top lip pulling into a small sneer. “You really should learn to drive, you know.”

“It’s more eco-friendly this way,” Jihoon replied, but they’d had this conversation too many times for either of them to have any real bite behind their words. “Why are  _ you _ here so late?”

“What, I can’t check on my favourite son?” 

They both knew the words were lies, the only reason he would even try and claim Jihoon as his favourite being that Jihoon was the current heir to his company, and had submitted to his wishes and entered a business major when he started university. Chan was his favourite by far, but blatantly acting as such wouldn’t get Jihoon to cooperate with him any more easily. Tension hung in the air between them, so thick that Jihoon could nearly see it, sticky cobwebs spanning from wall to wall, leaving him barely able to breathe without inhaling the invasive threads. 

His father spoke, words cleaving straight through the webs. “You’ve got a lot of equipment in that studio.” 

Jihoon’s head whipped towards the door at the end of the hallway, his  _ private, locked _ studio — and sure enough, the door was ajar, the light on, giving Jihoon a good glimpse of the damage that lay behind it. His breath caught in his throat, tears sticking to his eyelashes as he stumbled, unbelieving, towards his safe haven, and opened the door to find it completely trashed. He just barely noticed his father getting up from the couch, following him down the hall.

His keyboard lay on the ground, keys somehow missing and strewn about the floor of the studio. His beatpad and microphones lay despondently on the desk, and Jihoon somehow knew that they wouldn’t work no matter how hard he tried to fix them. His computer was open, and when he frantically searched through his files he couldn’t find a trace of any of his projects, finished or otherwise. 

All of it was gone, ripped from him like the heart somehow still beating in his chest.

A choked sob escaped him, legs giving out and sending him crashing to the studio floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see the figure of his father looming in the doorway, stern disapproval and anger visible on every part of his face. “You  _ dare, _ ” he said, voice seething with nothing but pure rage, “bring music into your life? After what it did to this family? To  _ us _ ? Have you no shame?”

Jihoon knew there was no reply he could give that his father would want to hear.

The lack of an answer only served to enrage him, and he stormed towards the cowering Jihoon, grabbing his face roughly and pulling him to his feet. “You listening to me, you ungrateful brat?” his father hissed, spittle flying into Jihoon’s face. “I make you the heir of the Lee fortune, and you repay me like this? By going behind my back and doing the one thing — the  _ one _ thing! — I expressly forbid you from doing?” He removed his hand from where it was gripping Jihoon’s jaw, bringing it down to his side. 

_ Crack. _

Distantly, Jihoon registered the quickly intensifying pain now blooming across his left cheek, and the increasing volume of his father’s berations. He brought a hand up to his cheek, startling a bit when it came away wet with tears. His father pushed him down to the floor, hip hitting the edge of the broken keyboard as he fell, and then it was just him and the darkness and the remnants of everything he let himself love. 

When he heard his front door shut, Jihoon pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling the only person he could even imagine going to for help. 

“Joshua?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tldr for after the break: jihoon arrives home after the rehearsal to find his father already there, and his music studio trashed. his father calls him a shame and a disappointment and essentially tells him to stop doing music. after he leaves, jihoon calls joshua.
> 
> i really need to stop finishing chapters at like 12 am this cant be good for my health
> 
> this chapter was oddly hard for me to write?? but once i picked up some momentum this ended up being one of the longest chapters i've written to date  
> and ik i said i wld stop giving 2ji the angst but i cant make good on that promise yet theres still quite a bit of Angst left for those poor boys (and a fair amount left for jeongcheol as well, dont think that theyre safe!)
> 
> songs mentioned: [lifeboat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cO_bnOUmX6s) [shine a light reprise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_h_Zi4F1I8I) and [seventeen!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9h80Sr15n4M)
> 
> comments and kudos keep me writing!! it seriously warms my heart to see how much you guys like this fic hsdnslkcd
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	12. Luck Be A Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which jihoon deals with the aftermath, and seungcheol takes a risk.

Jihoon woke up wrapped in someone else’s arms, sunlight dappling his cheeks and hair from behind the curtains. He shifted around, met with Joshua’s face, eyes soft and warm in the golden light. “Sleep well?” Joshua asked, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“... Can’t believe you were willing to spoon me the whole night,” Jihoon grumbled by way of response, voice rough and gravelly. It felt a lot earlier than Jihoon had ever awoken on his own, with the way the sun streamed through the window and across their still forms, and he resisted the temptation to snuggle deeper into Joshua’s embrace and go back to sleep. The silence between them lay like a blanket across them, comforting and warm and so different from the tense web from last night, but Jihoon broke it all the same. “You didn’t have to stay.”

Joshua’s thumb traced small circles on Jihoon’s shoulder, the simple touch keeping him grounded in reality and saving his thoughts from spiralling down the familiar, trodden, darkened and unsteady road. “You deserved sleep for once. Deserved to know you’re loved.” 

Jihoon hated how his heart fluttered at the words. 

The morning rose slow and syrupy, like the spring sun itself, roused gently from a long slumber and bringing itself slowly back to wakefulness. They got ready together, Joshua stealing a spare toothbrush from Jihoon’s bathroom counter and a couple of Jihoon’s more oversized pieces so he didn’t have to stuff himself back into his clothes from last night. They made breakfast — or, well, Joshua made breakfast and Jihoon made them some strong coffee — and ate together at the table that Jihoon oh-so-rarely used, sharing laughter and smiles and bites of pancake, and it was a bit worrying how much power Joshua held over him, how happy he could make him and how easily that small bit of happiness could be taken away.

After the food had been eaten, the dishes had been put away, Joshua asked him, “Are you ready to go into your studio?” The memories from the night before washed over Jihoon, but the sound of Joshua’s voice and the look in his dark eyes was enough to keep him afloat, to save him from going overboard on this deep and stormy sea. He took a deep breath, swallowing hard before nodding and following Joshua into the studio. 

The damage didn’t look as bad in the light of day, the floor cleaned of any debris and two distinct piles on his desk. “I cleaned up a little after you’d fallen asleep,” Joshua explained, gesturing at the piles. “Figured you wouldn’t want to go through it yourself, so, well…” It was just so …  _ Joshua _ of him, so stupidly thoughtful and sweet and it made Jihoon’s heart flutter. If only he could make Joshua as happy as he made him. 

“This pile here is stuff we can maybe save,” Joshua said, walking over to the pile on the left. It cut a much less imposing figure than the other pile, and Jihoon’s chest grew tight at the sight — his beatpad, more than half of the buttons ripped off and the aux cord it attached to cut roughly near the plug, lay forlornly aside one of his microphones, the one that had somehow managed to escape most of the damage. His electric keyboard, the better quality microphone he owned, and a pair of headphones that had somehow escaped his notice the night before were in the opposing pile, and tears rose in Jihoon’s eyes no matter how hard he tried to push them back. 

“Oh, Ji,” Joshua murmured as soon as he noticed, pulling Jihoon into a firm, warm hug. He cried it out into Joshua’s sweater-clad shoulder, not even the tiniest bit ashamed of the ugly sobs leaving his chest or the slowly growing wet patches in the fabric covering Joshua’s chest. The time for shame around Josh had come and gone, replaced with a deep sense of trust and love that could only be found elsewhere once more — between Jihoon and Seungcheol, friends since childhood. Once the tears had subsided, and Jihoon could breathe evenly, Joshua pulled a small USB out of his back pocket. 

“What’s that?”

“Remember when you sent me all those songs?” Josh asked, and Jihoon nodded, voice still rough with lingering tears. “I saved them on here, ‘cause…” Something flashed across his face, too quick for Jihoon to see or know what it meant, and then he continued, “Well, it’s not important. What  _ is _ important is that I’ve got about ten different songs on here, which is ten more than I was able to recover last night.”

A small seed of hope planted itself in Jihoon’s chest, small green leaves peeking delicately from the freshly overturned soil. “Josh, you’re a life-saver. Really.”

Joshua gave him an easy grin. “It was the least I could do. ‘Sides, what kinda friend would I be if I didn’t help you out in your time of need?”

_ If only you were more than just a friend, _ Jihoon’s mind whispered. 

+

“Jihoon! Over here!” 

A shrill voice cut through Jihoon’s thoughts, the sight of his step-mother waving frantically filling his vision as he made his way towards them. “Oh, I’m so excited to see my lovely little Channie perform,” she chattered, holding tight to Jihoon’s father’s arm as they entered the large foyer of the private prep school Chan was enrolled in. Jihoon had attended the same school with Seungcheol, as it was widely regarded as the most prestigious and effective preparatory school within the city. The spring showcase the school held was the biggest event of the year, with the winning performers being gifted a cheque of a thousand dollars and an appearance in a local news article. Jihoon had won with Seungcheol during Seungcheol’s last year at the school, with a self-composed song highlighting both his own piano prowess and Seungcheol’s skill with a violin. 

“If he doesn’t win, we’ll have to increase his practice hours,” his father said, and Jihoon held back the rage simmering underneath his skin. “It’s unfortunate that he doesn’t share the same passion for practice that Jihoon does, isn’t it?” His eyes locked with Jihoon’s, a silent message boring into his skull.  _ Behave _ .

“Sure is,” Jihoon forced out through gritted teeth, making himself smile. “Of course, he’s always got his senior year if things don’t go as planned.”

“Why wait until senior year?”

By that point, they had reached the school auditorium, an almost stupidly lavish affair with more amenities than some community theatres were lucky to have. After three children attending the school and more than a few generous donations, they headed right to the second row of seats, getting a prime view of all the performances. The program opened with the school’s headmaster giving a speech about the importance of cultivating a love of the arts in the city’s most promising children (which Jihoon knew was bullshit) and how no matter who won the competition, all of the students had worked their hardest to perform and their efforts would be recognized and appreciated (which smelled even more strongly of bullshit). And Jihoon would admit, there were a few diamonds in the rough throughout the showcase — a girl clad in a white tutu and beat-up pointe shoes doing what seemed to be a modified version of some sort of ballet piece; a boy with neatly combed brown hair and wire-rim glasses reading a poem that left Jihoon wondering; a kid he recognized as Chan’s debate partner doing a moving reenactment of a monologue from  _ Macbeth _ — but the majority of the performances were lackluster, covered in too much dust for their shine to even be seen. 

As much as Jihoon loved Chan, the same could be said for him. His piece was performed spectacularly — much more impressive than the average violinist of his age, with a commanding presence that had every eye in the audience on him — but it lacked something. The glimmer of achievement in his eyes at the final flourish of his bow; the hunger on his face as he competed desperately for the audience’s approval. It was the  _ passion _ behind the performance, behind the endless hours of practicing and fine-tuning and working until rough calluses had formed on his fingertips, that was missing, and Jihoon knew that no matter how many years of practice Chan had under his belt, it was something he’d never be able to learn.

(The boy with the wire-rim glasses and the poem that reminded Jihoon of ancient, abandoned castles and hugs pulled away from too soon won, with Chan’s debate partner coming in second and Chan scoring third, much to his father’s chagrin. “Next year you’ll take the top prize,” his father said, voice easy and light despite the glimmer of disappointment shining beneath the fluorescent hallway lights, and it took all of Jihoon’s will to not comment on how love cannot be learned.)

“You performed well,” Jihoon said, sweeping Chan into a hug. His father had left a few minutes ago to talk to someone — probably the headmaster, or someone equally as important — and now it was just them, just the way Jihoon liked it. “I still think your debates are more fun to watch, though.”

Chan made a face as they pulled away. “Dad says debate is boring.”

“There’s nothing more amusing than high school kids arguing with each other in the most pretentious way possible,” Jihoon told him, and Chan let out a laugh, an easy smile spreading across his face. “Besides, I can tell you enjoy it more.”

Chan didn’t say anything, noticing someone over Jihoon’s shoulder and grabbing his hand before he could react, running down the hallway and around the corner towards a classroom. 

“You made it!” His voice was light, relieved, happier than Jihoon had heard it the whole day. “He said you were coming, but I didn’t think—”

“I keep my promises,” the figure across from them said, and Jihoon’s heart leapt into his throat. 

Yoongi leaned against the wall, cocking his head to the side as he noticed Jihoon. “Hey.”

Rage and hurt and worst of all, the sense that something was missing, something within reach, if only he would stretch just a little farther. “What are you  _ doing _ here,” he hissed out. “Haven’t you already ruined things enough?”

“Jihoon, that’s not fair,” Chan complained, hurt flashing across his face. “Yoongi’s trying to fix things, he told me himself.”

“Fix things?” Jihoon replied, disbelief coating his voice. “ _ Fix _ things? All he’s done since leaving is make things worse, Chan.”

“You know that’s not true,” Yoongi said quietly, and Jihoon hated that he was right. “We  _ both _ know that anything that happened after I left was his fault, not ours.”

A beat of silence, and then Jihoon spoke. “I can’t blame it on him, though.”

“You can leave.”

Chan’s voice was quiet, tremulous. The two brothers turned to him, incredulous exclamations flying out of their mouths and towards him, but he stood firm. “You can leave, like Yoongi did,” Chan pressed, and despite how crazy it sounded Jihoon longed for it to be true. “We both know that you’re not interested in business at all, you’re just smart enough to get away with doing it half-heartedly. I’d rather you be away from him and happy than staying here and miserable.”

“I— I can’t just  _ leave _ ,” Jihoon said, desperation leaking into his voice no matter how hard he tried to control it. “If I leave, it’ll just be you, Chan, and I can’t do that to you, I can’t leave you in the line of fire like that—” All the words he couldn’t say stuck to his tongue, bitter and heavy, as he thought of all he’d gone through in the past few years and how much he cared for Chan and how the last thing he ever wanted was for Chan to go through even a fraction of what he went through. 

Yoongi pursed his lips. “We’re talking about this later.”

“No, I’m — I —” On either side of Jihoon, there was a brother, ready to stare him down. Chan, with his earnest eyes still glimmering with a hope that Jihoon had lost a long time ago, and Yoongi, with a steely gaze jaded by what he’d been through, and what he was prepared to guide Jihoon through. “Look, just because you’re  _ right _ doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“No, but it sure is better to be right than lawful,” Yoongi shot back, and Jihoon finally yielded. 

Chan grinned, eyes still alight with that hope, a hope that Jihoon could start to feel rekindling. “We’re going to get you out.”

+

“Seungcheol, are you okay to stay late? I want to practice some of our songs with the recorded tracks.” Jeonghan was looking at him with those damned puppy-dog eyes, the ones that Seungcheol couldn’t say no to, so he wordlessly nodded his agreement. They waited until everyone had left before taking control of the stage, Jeonghan skillfully maneuvering the auditorium’s complicated Bluetooth system to connect to the audio files the band had sent them.

“I think  _ Dead Girl Walking _ needs the most work,” Seungcheol said, legs splayed on the stage as he watched Jeonghan walk back up to meet him. “You know, considering how much goes on in that scene?”

Jeonghan laughed. “You sure you just want to practice that number for the  _ practice _ ?” he asked, voice light with teasing notes weaved throughout. Seungcheol felt his face get hot, stammering half-thought sentences all flustered and worried until Jeonghan’s laughter was the only sound left in the auditorium, and a sheepish smile had made its way across his own face. “Just teasing.”

He started the music, the familiar notes ringing out through the auditorium and the melodies and harmonies and practice movements flowing through Seungcheol like a well-oiled machine, a dance that is all too familiar and yet still enjoyable. It was almost routine, but Jeonghan just kept getting better with each performance, and no amount of practice could ever make this piece boring or dull to perform. 

They ran it once, and it was fine — they ran it twice, and it was still fine. Hell, they ran it  _ four fucking times _ and it was just that, just a piece between two colleagues and co-performers, but something about the fifth run, about the way Jeonghan’s lips were pink and kiss-swollen and his hair perfectly mussed and his pupils dazed and blown-out, about the messy way their lips connected and the even messier way they sang after just drove Seungcheol right to the edge of his sanity. 

The music came to its slow end once again, but instead of feeling just as ecstatic and satiated as JD might have been feeling, Seungcheol’s veins were thrumming with some sort of barely-contained desperation, passion one second away from consuming him entirely. His skin was made of his paper, and his blood liquid flame — he had to do something to let it out, lest he burn away. 

“That was a good run,” Jeonghan commented, slightly breathless and lips still swollen a tantalizing pink. Seungcheol nodded, swallowing hard as his eyes roamed the dip between Jeonghan’s collarbones, the sharp jut of his jawline, the gentle curve of his browbone and the soft, lush eyelashes atop milk-chocolate eyes. 

“Can I try something, something a little stupid?” Seungcheol burst out before he could stop himself, the sing of adrenaline in his veins too loud for him to hear the more rational part of his brain. Jeonghan gave him a small nod, watching intently as Seungcheol closed the gap between them, gaze flitting down to Seungcheol’s lips and then back up.

He took Jeonghan’s face in his hand, and pressed their lips together.

It was different from the desperate, almost insanity driven kisses of  _ Dead Girl Walking _ , softer and cleaner where the piece was harsh and messy. It started chaste — or, as chaste as it could be when Jeonghan’s tongue had been down Seungcheol’s throat not even three minutes prior — but quickly progressed into something else, something that gave an outlet for the fire beneath Seungcheol’s skin. Jeonghan pushed forward, pinning Seungcheol to the stage with simpy his weight and his will, taking control. Fingers, fingers that Seungcheol had become oh so familiar with twined into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him forward and into the kiss, Jeonghan repositioning himself so his knees were on either side of Seungcheol’s hips. Jeonghan moaned into the kiss, and Seungcheol responded in kind, hips involuntarily pushing up against Jeonghan’s.

He pulled away, looking down at Seungcheol from a halo of light. Jeonghan was always stunning, but this made Seungcheol take a mental picture — the haze of the stage lights behind him as he gazed down at Seungcheol, hair creating a gentle halo around his face, lips somehow more swollen than they’d been not even five minutes ago and pupils blown wide. A cheeky grin made its way across Jeonghan’s face, and he said with no amount of tact, “You wanna take this backstage?”

What could Seungcheol do but look him in the eyes and say yes?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my only explanation is school
> 
> winter break started tho!!! hopefully i can churn out a couple chapters, i'm excited to see this project all the way through to the end
> 
> thank u for reading!! kudos and comments will make my day <333


	13. Closeted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol bothers jihoon at an ungodly hour for relationship advice and goes back into the closet

“Jihoon, get up!”

Jihoon pushed himself up from his bed, rubbing a hand across bleary, sleep-crusted eyes. “Wh—”

Standing at his bedroom door was Seungcheol, looking slightly crazed and holding two to-go cups of coffee, presumably from  _ Smile Flower. _ “I regret giving you a house key,” Jihoon groaned, flopping back down onto his pillow despite Seungcheol’s numerous protests. 

“I bring you coffee and you repay me like this?” Seungcheol complained, setting the coffees down on Jihoon’s bedside table and throwing open the curtains, causing Jihoon to curse and sputter as the light hit his eyes. “Come on, this is kind of important.” 

“Give me a second to wake up,” Jihoon grumbled, shoving Seungcheol halfheartedly as he walked past him and towards his bathroom. “Go wait in the kitchen or something — just fuck off for long enough for me to take a piss, at least.” Seungcheol left without another word, his almost frantic energy and the two coffees exiting with him. Jihoon sighed, rubbing his eyes one more time before bracing himself for whatever Seungcheol’s news was.

When he got to the kitchen, the first thing he did was take a huge gulp of the coffee Seungcheol had bought for him, then slid into the seat across from him at the table. “Alright, explain.”

“I—” Seungcheol hesitated, the frantic energy from earlier cooling into something different, something hesitant and almost… scared? “Okay, you have to promise to not say that this was a bad decision—”

“Now I want to call it a bad decision and I don’t even know what happened yet.”

Seungcheol glared at him a little, but it didn’t last long before melting into a reluctant smile. “Oh, shut up.” He took a deep breath, staring at the top of his coffee, taking so long to speak that Jihoon took another sip of his coffee. When he spoke next, his words rushed out like water from a cup that has finally overflown, spilling and tumbling over each other in the haste to escape. “I may or may not have hooked up with Jeonghan last night after practice?”

Jihoon nearly choked on his coffee, letting out a hacking cough and looking up at Seungcheol through watering eyes, voice rough and raspy as he said, “You  _ what _ ?”

Red coloured Seungcheol’s cheeks as he spoke again, eyes looking anywhere but at Jihoon. “I fucked Jeonghan. Or, well, technically he fucked me, I thought I was going to be a top but I guess I was pretty wrong about that—”

“Damn, you couldn’t have waited another month? I lost my bet with Joshua because you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” Jihoon bemoaned, all too aware of how Seungcheol’s thoughts were beginning to start down a spiral and cutting it off with what was hopefully a well-placed burst of humour. “He’s going to use this against me for the next  _ year _ .”

“You bet on when I was going to get together with Jeonghan? Why?” Jihoon chanced a glance over at Seungcheol, and the worry lines in his forehead had smoothed out, his shoulders visibly dropping a few inches as some of the long-held tension in them released. 

“Because you two were oblivious idiots and it was funny, why else?” Jihoon replied, taking a sip of his coffee and praying that he wouldn’t choke on it this time. 

A soft silence hung in the air, broken only by the pensive look on Seungcheol’s face and the equally thoughtful tone of his voice. “You don’t think I ruined things? And the show will still be fine?”

Jihoon swirled the now-lukewarm coffee around in the to-go cup, unsure of what the right response was. “What, you care about the show now?” Seungcheol let out a small huff of air, lips pursing into a pout as he sipped at his own coffee. Jihoon hummed softly in thought, tracing circles on the top of the cup’s lid. “As long as the two of you talked about it, things should be fine,” he said, inwardly groaning as he saw Seungcheol tense up again from the corner of his eye. “Cheol, please don’t tell me—”

“ _ He left as soon as we had cleaned up _ —” Seungcheol blurted out, words running together in one quick mess of tension and fear. “I— I really thought that this was more than just a quick fuck to him, but he didn’t say anything after, and I couldn’t read him at  _ all _ , Hoon, and I’m so scared that I just ruined everything for everyone else because what do we even do if I can’t look at him, the  _ lead _ , because we were dumb and decided to have a quick backstage hook up and and and—”

Jihoon grabbed Seungcheol’s hands, stopping his fingers from picking at the already damaged skin around his nails. “Breathe, Cheol,” he said, eyes trained right on Seungcheol’s as he took one deep breath, then another. His hands were trembling. “You’re going to be fine, okay? Just— find a way to talk to him at the next rehearsal. Work things out, get closure of some kind, and everything will be fine. You’ll be fine.” Seungcheol nodded, his eyes still resembling that of a deer in headlights, but his hands were shaking less and his breathing seemed a lot steadier than it had been, so Jihoon let go of his hands and watched as they clasped gently around the coffee cup.

He wouldn’t look up for a while longer, the kitchen steeping in silence as light streamed in from the far window. “You’re sure that things will be fine?” he asked quietly, hands still clenched around the coffee cup.

To be honest, Jihoon wasn’t sure. He didn’t know Jeonghan well enough to have a good read on what exactly it was Jeonghan felt for Seungcheol, or if there were even feelings there at all — Joshua said there were, but this was the same person that was convinced the TA of his Advanced Drama classes had a crush on him when really she was just naturally flirty and made heart-eyes at anyone, so Jihoon didn’t know if he could trust Josh 100% — and as much as he hated lying, he didn’t want to say anything that would hurt Seungcheol. There were so many new things he was going through — the process of being in a musical, coming to terms with his first  _ real _ crush on a guy, finishing up his pre-med degree and writing the MCAT — and Jihoon was scared that a new uncertainty would be what finally sent him over the edge. 

_ For Cheol _ , he told himself, as he swallowed what he really thought and coated his tongue in lies, however soft and well-intentioned they may be. “I’m sure,” he said, the words like coffee in his mouth, coating his taste buds with something bitter and permeating. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

+

Seungcheol walked into practice, the weight of his backpack on his shoulders nothing compared to the slowly increasing pressure in his chest. He dropped his bag somewhere in the audience — Jihoon would probably sit there, it didn’t matter if he remembered where it was — and chanced a glance up at the stage, eyes locking with Jeonghan’s. A glimmer of something — too many things and yet not enough, hope and longing and lust and fear — flashed through his eyes, and Seungcheol felt himself exhale shakily as memories made their way through his mind. 

Jeonghan, straddling his waist and haloed by the bright stage lights. Jeonghan, pushing him against the wall and kissing him like there was no one and nothing else that mattered. Jeonghan, whispering filthy things just barely loud enough for Seungcheol to hear as he touched him. Jeonghan, sharing a kiss with him after that was sweet, soft, compared to the desperate heat from before. Jeonghan, leaving the auditorium with barely more than a seemingly apologetic goodbye. 

There were too many memories and sensations that Seungcheol relived every time he looked at Jeonghan, and those coupled with the anxiety still pressing against his chest made Seungcheol dizzy, the lights flashing too bright in front of him as he gripped the back of a chair and took a shaky breath in, exhaled, took in another. 

“Seungcheol!” Joshua called out from the stage, hopping down to come and greet him. “Perfect, we can clean up the whole  _ Dead Girl Walking Reprise  _ into  _ I Am Damaged _ , and once that’s done you’re okay to go for tonight. Don’t want to keep you too busy, I know you’ve got the MCAT to study for.”

“I rescheduled it to after the show,” he replies, still lightheaded and dazed and with a brain full of clouds and fog. “I booked off tonight anyways, I’m good to stay if you need me.” Distantly, Seungcheol knew what he was saying was true and that yes, he  _ was _ talking to Josh, but his mind was everywhere but the present moment. How  _ could _ he be present, when the marks on his chest and thighs burned like he was made of paper and they were bright red ink, when he had said  _ Jeonghan  _ so many times that he had created a new meaning for it, one that only they shared, when the same person that made Seungcheol feel loved like no one else had was also the person who had left with barely a goodbye was also the person who Seungcheol had to be in love with for this musical, this goddamned  _ musical, _ for the next two months. 

“Oh, great!” Seungcheol followed Josh up to the stage, somehow managing to keep both feet on the ground as he climbed the stairs. At some point, the music started for the reprise, and Seungcheol could barely bring himself to look at Jeonghan, which was fine because it wasn’t like he was even relevant until halfway through the song anyways. 

Before Seungcheol even knew it, Jeonghan turned to him and was speaking his cue, and Seungcheol tried his best, he really did, but this part was emotionally draining to perform when he  _ wasn’t _ an anxiety-ridden mess about having a backstage one-night stand with the co-lead of the show. JD… JD was unhinged here, driven to near insanity by the injustices he sees and cannot stop, by the only solution that he could feasibly hold in his grasp and let loose on the poor kids of Westerberg High, willing to blow up a whole school just to prove a point,  _ his _ point about society and the fucked-up hierarchies it manages to create everywhere it goes. And to reach that point of insanity, the precipice of which there is no return, would take too much out of Seungcheol for him to even consider giving the performance his 100%. 

Some time after his realization that he really,  _ really _ couldn’t act today — Seungcheol would not be able to tell you if his MCAT score was on the line —- the song ended, and when he turned to Josh he could see his own disappointment in himself mirrored in Josh’s face. “That’s… been better,” Josh said, and Seungcheol swallowed hard to keep the rising tide of tears at bay. “Your vocals were fine, really— Seungcheol seemed a bit out of it but that’s fixable—” 

Josh regarded the two of them with a stern sort of analysis on his face, lips pursed and brow furrowed. “The chemistry is missing, you know? That spark that you guys had during your first run of  _ Dead Girl Walking _ , it’s— it’s gone.” Seungcheol looked over at Jeonghan, and of course he would choose that exact moment to glance over as well — their eyes met, and it was full of static and lightning and unsaid words hanging between them like charge in the air before a thunderstorm. 

Of course this wouldn’t pass unnoticed under Josh’s watchful eye, and from the wicked gleam hidden there Seungcheol knew this wouldn’t be the last time they talked about this, but for now Josh let out a sigh and dismissed the two of them from the stage. In the meantime, the Heathers were called to the stage, since that was one of the few scenes they could run without either Seungcheol or Jeonghan. 

Seungcheol parked himself firmly in a seat somewhere in the audience, intent on not moving unless absolutely necessary so he could give himself time to reset his head and (hopefully) refrain from disappointing the rest of the cast any more today. Unfortunately for him, that time didn’t last long — it wasn’t even ten minutes before Joshua cursed, voice audible even from the corner Seungcheol had funnelled himself into. “I forgot the croquet mallets in the storage closet again!”

“Seungcheol,” Josh asked, “can you and Jeonghan grab the mallets? I swear, I need to stop forgetting them—”

Seungcheol blinked blankly at the stage once, twice. “Why two people?”

“The door locks when it’s closed, and there’s only one key that we  _ cannot _ afford to lose,” Josh said, voice almost sheepish. “Can’t have you getting locked in there, right?” And yeah, it was an old building, so that made sense. 

Jeonghan stood by the lip of the stage, eyes glancing over to meet Seungcheol’s before shooting away to study the tape peeling away on the scuffed black surface. “Alright,” Jeonghan said, and waited until Seungcheol had made his way from the edge of the auditorium to a comfortable distance away before clambering onto the stage and letting Seungcheol follow him to the storage closet. (Surprisingly, Seungcheol had never been inside the infamous closet before — aside from a metaphorical one, of course — and was oddly enough a bit excited to see what the fuss was with this apparently demonic closet.) 

It was unassuming, for a storage closet — your typical worn-looking wooden door that opened up to a short, dark hallway lined with uneven wooden shelves and peeling wallpaper, props littered haphazardly on the rough plywood that was nailed into the wall somehow. “Fuck, I think the mallets are all the way in the back,” Jeonghan said as he walked in, Seungcheol carefully holding the heavy door open. “Would it really kill Seokmin or Seungkwan to just put them near the door? Since we end up using them every other practice anyways?” Seungcheol had to strain to catch every word as Jeonghan walked deeper into the closet, picking his way past luggages covered in dust and a garbage can full of prop swords. 

“Shit, ow—” Seungcheol heard from the very back of the closet, ice shooting through his veins at the loud clatter combined with a litany of curses. Heart in his throat, he made his way through the maze of props as quickly as his legs would let him to get to Jeonghan. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking in the scene before him. Jeonghan was sprawled between the opposing shelves, one leg tossed haphazardly over a briefcase while the other rubbed at the back of his head, the mallets they were here for laying across his lap. 

“Yeah, but the entire fucking container of croquet balls fell on me when I was trying to get the mallets down,” he grumbled, extending a hand towards Seungcheol (which he gladly grabbed, taking the mallets from Jeonghan as he dusted himself off and setting them against a shelf to help clean up the scattered croquet balls). “We should really reorganize this garbage dump of a closet.” 

Seungcheol let out a small hum of agreement, making his way back to the door only for his heart to sink as he remembered what Joshua had warned him of before they had began the trek back here. “ _ The door locks when it’s closed, and there’s only one key that we cannot afford to lose, _ ” echoed in his head, and Seungcheol knew before he even tried to turn the knob that any escape attempt would be in vain. “Shit,” he breathed out, “I think I just got us locked in.” 

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed in disbelief, and he pushed past Seungcheol to try the doorknob, but it was the same result. 

That is to say, no result.

“We’re locked in,” Jeonghan said, voice still spilling over with disbelief, but Seungcheol had already resigned himself to their inevitable fate.

Like it or not, Seungcheol was stuck in a closet with the man that he was falling in love with. (In a  _ closet _ — you could practically taste the dramatic irony wafting off of this misfortune.) The same man with which he’d spent hours on stage fake kissing, and about two hours last night kissing for real.

What the everloving  _ hell _ was he supposed to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unexplained hiatus explained: school  
> that's literally it aaa im sorry! i'm in year 1 of full ib and that plus competitive dance has been a rough time involving many a late night breakdown
> 
> on a brighter note, school might be getting closed for two weeks because of covid-19 so i'll have time aplenty to spend on this fic! we're over 33k now which is pretty crazy considering this is only chapter 13 n i have around another 7 ish planned, this could easily end up being ~50k words which is very cool!
> 
> kudos and comments keep me going! thank you for reading~


	14. Rich Boys in The Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which seungcheol talks it out with jeonghan, and we get a glimpse into what's happened between hansol and seungkwan.

Seungcheol let out a small groan, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes as he sank to the floor, Jeonghan slowly lowering himself down beside him. “I’m so stupid, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not even daring to look at Jeonghan. 

“It’s fine, happens to the best of us,” was Jeonghan’s reply. “‘Sides, you wouldn’t have left the door if I hadn’t spilled the  _ entire fucking container _ of croquet balls on myself. It’s not really your fault.”

The silence between the two hung heavier than normal, the weight keeping Seungcheol stuck to the floor. There was an endless amount of words unsaid that Seungcheol just couldn’t find the strength to lift from off his tongue, but the air seemed to grow thicker and more oppressive with every passing second. 

He couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer. “Last night—” he started, words tumbling out in a half-formed rush, too eager to get out — but as soon as Jeonghan’s eyes were on him, any words held on his tongue were quickly swallowed and gone. The silence returned, even heavier than it had been before.

“Last night?” Jeonghan said, eyes searching Seungcheol’s face as he repeated what had escaped him not even moments ago, looking for an answer Seungcheol wasn’t sure he could give him.

Seungcheol settled on a question. “When you—” No, that wasn’t right either. He took a deep breath, trying once more to voice all the thoughts swirling in a tornado through his mind.

 “Did last night mean anything to you?” His voice was small and unsure, barely audible even in the stifling quiet of this storage closet, a hair above a whisper and just loud enough for Jeonghan to hear. “Or was it just … no strings attached?”

Jeonghan dragged a hand down his face, letting out a little half-sigh, half-laugh as he did so. “God, this is embarrassing,” he muttered. Seungcheol was almost scared to interrupt. “Do you really think last night meant nothing to me?”

“I— I mean, you didn’t really say anything, and you left so  _ quickly _ after, and I was just—”

Jeonghan placed soft fingertips against Seungcheol’s cheek, gently turning his face towards him and pressing their lips together in a kiss. When they pulled away, Jeonghan kept his eyes trained on Seungcheol’s, voice low and raw as he said, “You really think I would do that if I didn’t like you?”

A grin started to break on Seungcheol’s face before he had even fully processed what Jeonghan meant, relief flooding through his veins so quickly he felt dizzy. “Really?”

He nodded, a small smile of his own on his face. “Really.”

Seungcheol grabbed Jeonghan’s face, pulling him close and kissing him like he would disappear if he didn’t act quick enough. The force of Seungcheol’s enthusiasm pulled Jeonghan on top of him, Seungcheol toppling over until his head hit the floor beneath him and he was pinned down beneath Jeonghan’s hips. Jeonghan, much to his credit, barely paused as they adjusted and kissed Seungcheol with a sweeter fire than they had shared last night. 

He pulled back again, thoughts still swirling madly in his head. “You’re sure?” Seungcheol asked, hating a litte how he was so breathless from the way Jeonghan kissed him. “This is really happening? I— Is this like, an actual relationship, or just a sex thing, or—”

Jeonghan let out a little laugh, light and airy in the way they are when your lungs just aren’t all the way full yet. “We should probably talk before we start going for each other again like horny teenagers, huh?” he said, bringing himself into a sitting position before helping Seungcheol get himself back up. 

“I mean, I’ve never been with a guy before, so horny teenager is a good word for my mentality,” Seungcheol replied, provoking another set of laughs from Jeonghan. Seungcheol would never tire of that sound. “I had a crush on Jihoon once, but that was pretty short-lived.”

Jeonghan took Seungcheol’s hand in his, rubbing soft circles with his thumb against Seungcheol’s skin. “You want this to be … a thing then? A relationship? Us?”

Seungcheol huffed out a soft sigh. “I think I’ve had a crush on you since I met you during my audition. Yes?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Jeonghan’s lips. “Like at first sight? What are you, the romantic interest in a musical?”

 “I mean…” Seungcheol gestured at the closet they were in, then at himself. “It is pretty on brand that I met you at a musical audition and ended up playing your romantic interest.” Their laughs were quickly absorbed into the dim lighting of the closet, and everything that could go wrong started to hit Seungcheol as soon as the initial euphoria died down. “Oh, god, my parents still don’t know that I’m bi.”

Jeonghan went quiet, thumb still tracing invisible patterns on Seungcheol’s skin. “Will they take it badly?” he asked, voice soft. “I don’t want you to be walking into something you can’t handle.”

In his mind, Seungcheol weighed the pros and cons of coming out, a long-standing mental list he started compiling as soon as he realized there was even a small chance of him being a little bit gay. He was the second child but the first son, which means the pressure of producing an heir was mostly on Eunji anyways, and he could always prove himself later on with his own success as a doctor. As long as Seungcheol made sure his parents couldn’t fault him for anything else, the worst thing that would happen with him coming out was that Christmas would just get a little weird, and if things went well with Hansol and Seungkwan, maybe his parents would have to change their minds anyways. “I think things will be okay,” Seungcheol said, raising Jeonghan’s hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against it. “Besides, my parents have a lot to learn. Maybe having two out of three kids be some sort of gay will help speed that along a little bit — it’s not like they’re going to disown both of us.”

“You’re sure they won’t mind their son kissing boys in a musical theatre show?” Jeonghan asked, voice lilting lightly as a teasing grin made its way across his face. “Stripping for an audience of hundreds?”

Seungcheol shrugged. “What can they do about it? My grandfather has more power than they could ever have over us and he never cared what I did so long as I never lost sight of my goals.”

Jeonghan grinned. “I think I’ll like your grandfather.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to correct Jeonghan, tell him that his grandfather is dead. It was still something Seungcheol had to come to terms with, process on his own and understand that someone who had always been a reassuring presence in his life would never sit by him and tell him about his own jaunts with boys and girls and everything in between and outside back in the day. Seungcheol just hummed noncommittally and hoped it was enough of an agreement for Jeonghan to not press further. 

“So,” Seungcheol started, “does this mean I can call you my boyfriend now?”

Jeonghan gave him a kiss, sweeter than ripe strawberries and more intoxicating than wine. “Sure fucking does.”

“That’s a lot of power for one man to have,” Seungcheol shot back in between kisses just as fierce and lovely. “You sure you want to give that to me?”

“Never been surer, love.” Jeonghan pressed one more kiss against Seungcheol’s lips, then moved to the crook of his jaw, the soft skin where his jaw meets his neck, the vulnerable spot just beneath that. Seungcheol was on the floor again before he knew it, and Jeonghan glanced up at the locked door above them before looking back at Seungcheol with an expression he could only describe as devilish. “Do you think I can make you come before Josh sends Mingyu to come find us?”

A hot flush rose to Seungcheol’s cheeks, and he tried to keep up a mask of bravado despite the fact that his cheeks were most definitely very, very red. “I’d like to see you try.”

Jeonghan grinned wolfishly, already working at the button of Seungcheol’s jeans. “Oh, you should not have challenged me.”

“Oh, yes I should have,” Seungcheol breathed out, already halfway to a moan. Jeonghan was going to be the death of him, but at least he would die pleasantly.

+

Hansol wasn’t fond of coffee, but he was fond of Seungkwan.

Most of their dates so far had been at the coffee shop where Seungkwan had allegedly called his brother a ‘spoiled, stuck up trust fund baby’ (which Hansol wasn’t going to deny, they both had trust funds and were definitely spoiled at times, but Seungkwan had apologized profusely after getting to know both him and Seungcheol a little better and Seungcheol had apologized for his behaviour at the first practice) and Hansol had a lot of fun trying to find a drink that both tasted good and didn’t have coffee in it, especially since there were always new, beautifully cryptic drinks put up every week. Seungkwan always got an iced coffee, half-sweet and double iced, and Hansol was normally early because he really didn’t do much outside of school, so he would always sip at whatever monster concoction he’d ordered that week while he watched little drops of liquid condense on the outside of Seungkwan’s glass and wait patiently for Seungkwan’s million-dollar smile. 

It was nice that his parents let him study in Seoul, far enough away from Daegu and their hawklike eyes that he could be himself with a lot less fear. Do things he had never even entertained the idea of trying back home, like go on dates with the cutest, funniest boy he’d ever met. 

Hansol and Seungkwan had been dating exclusively for only a few weeks when the guilt he felt from hiding his inheritance task spilled over, and he had told Seungkwan everything in a teary mess. Seungkwan had been mad — and understandably so, it would have been so easy for him to just decide that Hansol had been using him for the money (which he hadn’t been, but he couldn’t control what others thought any more than he could control the weather) but Hansol had explained himself the best he could and given Seungkwan the space he needed, and in the end he had been more understanding and kind than Hansol thought he deserved. (Really, he had completely forgotten about the inheritance after their first date, and was more focused on proving to Seungkwan that he was someone worth loving after immediately feeling a connection that he wanted to build.)

But the fact still remained, even ignoring the looming inheritance, that Hansol had to come out to the rest of his family. (He’d told Seungcheol, after his first kiss with the leading star of their fancy prep boarding school’s debate team in his grade, and Seungcheol had been kind and understanding and told him about his own brief crush on Jihoon and how he was probably bisexual. That unspoken solidarity had carried on til now, and Hansol was forever grateful that there was at least one person he loved that would support him and who he fell in love with.) He already knew that his parents were insistent on having grandchildren, and having another heir to the Choi fortune once they passed on, but Hansol hoped that since he was the youngest child the response would be more open. The pressure of an heir was on Eunji, and he could always get a surrogate or adopt — it wasn’t like everything was doomed because he liked men, right?

“Hey, Seungkwan,” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them, thumb rubbing circles into Seungkwan’s hand where he was holding it over the table. “Is there a time soon where we could both go down to Daegu together?”

“I mean, the musical prep is getting a bit more hectic, but if it’s important I’m sure I can escape for a quick weekend. Why?”

Hansol took a deep breath, squeezing Seungkwan’s hand gently. “I think I’m ready to come out to my parents.”

Seungkwan squeezed his hand back. “That’s — I’m so proud of you, baby. I’ll be right with you the whole time.”

He gave Seungkwan a nervous grin, letting out a breath he had been holding for far too long. “And— if you’re okay with it— I want to introduce you to them as my boyfriend.”

Seungkwan interlaced their fingers, pressing a kiss against Hansol’s hand. “I would be honoured.”

Despite the fear still ever-present in his heart, and the knowledge of his parents’ views on things like this shooting through his heart like barbed arrows, Hansol had never been more sure of himself, sunshine streaming through the window and Seungkwan’s hand comfortingly wrapped in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so help me god i will finish this fic even if it takes me another year to do it  
> this chapter was TOUGH to write, i kept getting stuck and losing inspiration, and it also doesn't help that i successfully fixated myself on another, even more niche fandom in the meantime (shoutout dimension 20 and fantasy high for keeping me sane through quarantine) but its done! it's here! and i hope that it can be followed by another chapter in the next month or so!
> 
> kudos and comments make my day!


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